


For a Good Time

by cosmicallybrownie



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Food mention, Human AU, Swearing, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicallybrownie/pseuds/cosmicallybrownie
Summary: A phone number scrawled across a dark, dirty bathroom stall prompts a drunk Natalie to make a phone call. When Lucifer answers, he agrees to help her find her way home. Natalie clings to the impatient man, who wants nothing more than to never see her again. Of course, he never gets what he wants.





	1. Getting Home

Natalie stopped counting her drinks a long time ago, her buzz and the excitement of pink umbrellas in frilly glasses was too much to try to enjoy while keeping track at the same time. Her hands were in the air as she swayed side to side on the dance floor, the lighting dark and the music loud and pulsing. Natalie laughed, vibrant in the dark nightclub as one song faded into the other and she kept swaying, the alcohol in her body making her movements slightly off beat.

 

But as the night wore on, Natalie felt her mood shift from bubbly and happy to grouchy and tired. Her calves burned from her frighteningly high heels, and she just wanted to get away from the crowd that suddenly felt hot and suffocating. Holding her hands up to create a barrier of sorts, she pushed through the crowd, more than a little unsteady on her feet.

 

Finally reaching the outskirts, Natalie took a deep breath, smelling sweat and alcohol. The crowd went from overwhelming to annoying when a stumbling man bumped into her, spilling beer all down the front of her red dress.

 

Groaning, Natalie stumbled to the bathroom, trying to carefully avoid anyone else, but her efforts fell short just steps from the bathroom when a woman grabbed her shoulders, then proceeded to vomit down on Natalie’s black pumps.

 

“Oh my god,” Natalie whined.

 

It seemed nothing was going well, and when she finally got into the bathroom, the whole floor was wet. Natalie didn’t even want to guess what it was.

 

Wadding up paper towels, Natalie tried to dab at the beer on her dress, knowing it wouldn’t come off, but it didn’t stop her from hoping. When she was unsuccessful, Natalie frowned and slumped against the bathroom stall, repulsed by the stickiness of it, but not energetic enough to stand on her own.

 

In her hunched positon, she could read the words “for a good time call 666-7467” sloppily written in a black marker on another stall door. Cocking her head to the side, Natalie stared at the words as if they were a code she was trying to decipher the meaning of. After a moment, she fished her phone out of her bra and typed the number in and called it.

 

It rang for a short moment before a man picked up, “Hello?”

 

“Hi,” Natalie started, “your number was on the bathroom stall and I am not having a good time.”

 

“Wh-“

 

She continued, “someone spilled beer on my dress and someone puked on my shoes and I think this is a puddle of pee I’m standing in – public restrooms are so nasty, but I never thought there would be a time I was grateful to be wearing heels. "

 

Lucifer was confused, and he sat down on the side of his bed, raking his fingers through his loose hair, and he groaned, searching his brain to try and figure out who called him. He hadn’t given his number out recently, and he definitely wouldn’t have given it to someone who rambles like this.

 

Trying to interrupt he said, “Who is-“

 

"My underwear keeps riding up under this dress and my hairspray didn't hold my curls and I’m just ready to go _home_."

 

Her voice was bordering on hysterical and panic welled up in Luce as he questioned why he even picked up the phone in the first place, before remembering. Oh.

 

A flash of blonde hair belonging to a girl he didn’t remember played through his head, and he didn’t recall her face, let alone her name. He woke up to her going through his phone, putting her number in and texting herself. She sent him plenty of messages the next week that Luce had never cared to read, and he never got back in touch with her. He supposed putting his number on a bathroom stall was just the kind of petty revenge that girl had needed.

 

Sighing, he tried to interrupt again, “Girl, who the fu-“

 

“My heels are giving me a blister,” she drew out the last word with a whine.

 

Swallowing his sarcastic comment, he elected to speak softly to calm the frantic girl, “Where are you?”

 

“I don’t know. Some club.”

 

“Look at the stamp on the back of your hand.”

 

“Uhh, I’m at the Purple T-Tony.”

 

“The Purple Pony. Okay, where are your friends?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Then go find them,” he said flatly, tired of trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

 

“I can’t, they left. I just want to go home.”

 

“Okay, girl. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

His own words surprised him and he cursed under his breath. Why the fuck did he just offer to go get this girl he didn’t know? He replayed the previous conversation in his head that led up to his offer, but he was cut off, yet again, by this girl on the phone.  

 

“Why?”

 

“What do you mean wh- okay,” he took a deep breath, silencing the anger that bubbled just beneath his skin, “just be outside. I’ll take you home.”

 

He held the phone between his ear and shoulder while he pulled on the pair of jeans he just took off and tightened the belt. She kept babbling on about her friend and the dance floor, and Luce only half listened, grunting in affirmation occasionally while he hunted down his other shoe on his messy floor.

 

He kept her on the phone his whole walk over, giving her slow instructions and telling her to go outside about fifteen times. Reaching the well-known club, he once again asked her to come outside and he watched the doors carefully, exasperated by the time a redhead finally emerged with her phone pressed to her ear.

 

Lifting his hand in greeting, they locked eyes and he couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. The red dress she had on was form fitting and clung to her hips and thighs in a way that made him less bitter about his walk over, and her hair was in loose waves down her back, making her look soft despite the tight dress. However, the illusion was broken when she shuffled over to him with an unsteady stride and he could see something dark spilled down the front of her dress. She almost lost her balance once, and Luce wasn’t sure if that was due to her drunken state, or the ridiculous heels on her feet.

 

Finally reaching Luce’s side, Natalie grabbed his arm to ground herself and looked up at him, and she couldn’t miss his sharp jawline and defined muscles even in her drunken state.

 

“Wow,” she sounded out of breath, “you’re handsome.”

 

Fighting the urge to walk away, he said, “Just – okay, where do you live?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Give me your wallet.”

 

“Are you robbing me?”

 

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Lucifer really regretting answering the phone earlier.

 

“I’m trying to find your address so I can take you home,” he answered through gritted teeth.

 

She held her wallet out in front of her, pulled out from only God knows where for just a brief moment before she leaned against his arm, hiding the wallet behind her back. Luce took a steadying breath, and then another before twisting her around, and he managed to wrestle the wallet from her, leaving her giggling against his side while he dug for her license.

 

Finally finding it, he pulled the small card out of the slot, glancing over the details and making note that her name was Natalie before locating her address. His face twisted into a look of disgust as he read the line once, and then again, confirming that yes, she lived right above him.

 

“Holy shit, girl,” he said under his breath, “why do you move furniture so much?”

 

She mumbled something that sounded like, “I get bored,” against his arm and he sighed.

 

“Okay, Cinderella, get your glass slippers.” Luce commanded, pointing towards the glittering heels that she had abandoned on the sidewalk, “Time to go home.”

 

Luce gently wound an arm around her shoulder, and Natalie pulled away, gasping as though she was scandalized “sir, I just met you.”

 

Lucifer resisted the urge to remind her that she called _him_ out of the blue on a Thursday night, but instead he asked, “how much did you have to drink, girl?”

 

“I, well, I– I don’t know.”

 

“Okay, that’s great. Come on, up this street. You know the way.”

 

Luce kept his hands at his sides while they walked, but eventually Natalie stumbled on the uneven pavement, forcing Luce to reach out and steady her.

 

“I’m drunk,” Natalie said, and Luce wasn’t sure if that was her explanation, or way of apology.

 

“Trust me, girl. I’m aware.” Luce sighed, “I’m taking you home.”

 

“You’re escorting me home, what a gentleman.” Natalie walked in silence for a moment, “Wait, are you an _escort_?” She whispered the last word, despite the fact that her whisper was not quieter than her talking tone. 

 

The muscles in Luce’s jaw flexed when he snapped his mouth shut, not even answering her question, and he pressed forward, increasing his pace.

 

Natalie hummed and followed his lead, getting distracted by the man’s profile that seemed too sharp against the soft light of the moon. The reflection of the city lights was swallowed by his dark eyes, and she saw the hard edge that lingered there as he slowed his pace.  

 

She was glad he slowed, because she had the chance to press into his side, “your hands are warm.”

 

His hand brushed her bare back, and she sighed and leaned further into him. In the back of his mind, Luce knew he should have pulled away, but he kept his hand firmly on the small of her back for the rest of the walk.

 

Finally arriving at their building, he used his own key to open the front door and Natalie seemed to perk up a little under the bright lights of the apartment building.

 

Walking slowly to the elevator, he pressed the call button and waited, watching Natalie shift uncomfortably in her shoes that smelled like a bar bathroom, which shouldn’t have surprised him. When the silver doors finally slid open, he put a hand on her elbow to guide her in, but she turned and headed towards the stairs instead.

 

Catching her wrist, he said, “No, come on, get in the elevator.”

 

“No,” she whined, “I want to take the stairs.”

 

“Girl,” he said, his tone razor sharp, “you literally complained about your heels and blisters the whole way home.”

 

They argued back and forth long enough that the elevator doors closed and Natalie used the momentary distraction to turn and start walking up the stairs towards her room. However, halfway up the first flight of stairs, Natalie was grabbing on to Luce’s arm as she wobbled her way up each step.  

 

Each step was an excruciatingly long process, and after having enough of it (14 steps, exactly), Lucifer picked Natalie up, hoisting her over his shoulders in the approved fireman carry position that had been ingrained in his mind after years of training and practice.

 

Luce took the stairs two at a time, more than eager to get the girl home. Somewhere along the way, she managed to kick off her shoes, but Luce wasn’t about to complain or go back for them. The black heels were ruined anyway, and he figured she was better off without them.

 

He climbed two more flights of stairs in blissful silence before he felt Natalie shift and get one of her arms free, which she promptly slung around his neck.

 

“Am I heavy?” She asked, too close to his ear for his comfort. The alcohol on her breath was so heavy that Luce feared for his own sobriety, and he frowned.  

 

He thought back to weeks of training and how the firefighter recruits had tried so hard to find weaknesses in his strength, “No.”

 

“Then why do you look so mad?”

 

“Please don’t poke my cheek,” he snapped, swatting her hand away, “I’m carrying you up several flights of stairs, girl.”

 

The four flights of stairs felt infinitely longer than they were, but eventually they reached her door. A wreath of plastic flowers and a bright welcome mat made her room stand out amongst the rest of the plain white doors in her hall. Luce sat her down right in front of the turquoise welcome mat, and her feet were bare against the rough carpet.

 

“Where are your keys?”

 

“My bra,” she said proudly, but made no move to get them.

 

“Well,” he started, “get them.”

 

After digging around for a minute, she pulled out a key ring with more keys on it than Luce had ever seen, “What the hell, girl? Can you unlock every door in New York?”

 

“Nope,” she said, trying the first key, “I’m a botanist and these are keys for all my grabs and leenhouses. No. Labs and greenhouses.”

 

After watching her struggle with two more keys, Luce took the bulk from her and cycled through the rest of them quickly, eager to get her inside and away from him.

 

Eventually he got the door open and ushered her into the small apartment that was the same dimensions as his, but worlds different in decoration. Clicking on the lights, he looked around her apartment that was decorated in pinks and oranges, and an oil burner in the corner was switched on, making her room smell like something unfamiliarly floral. The room felt warm from all the vibrant color, but it was so disturbingly quiet, and not even a buzzing of a fan was present to offer noise.

 

Natalie threw her phone and wallet on the table and headed for the bathroom, all but ignoring Luce in the process.

 

She left the bathroom door cracked open, and Luce consciously kept his back to it while searching for any painkiller to set out for her. Eventually he found a bottle in her cabinet that was wedged between boxes of tampons, and fruit snacks, and he shook two out and set them by a glass of water. He turned to leave, happy to finally be away from her, but stopped to leave a short note.

 

He found a pad of paper decorated with flowers and vines, and wrote, ‘Girl, please do not call again” on it in his tall, crisp print that was almost as sharp as he was.

 

After another moment of hesitation, he signed it, “Apartment L, 4th floor” and tucked it under the edge of the glass of water on the counter.

 

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her come out of the bathroom and ask, “can you unzip me?”

 

And that request was the one that pushed him over the limit.

 

“No.”

 

He offered no more explanation, and slammed the door behind him, briefly amused by the sounds of her struggling with her dress. The amusement faded while he walked down the stairs, passing her soiled shoes with a grimace. 

 

Kicking off his jeans the moment he stepped through his door, Lucifer fell into bed, and tried to shake the memory of her pressed against his side as he walked her home under the dim streetlights that seemed to offer more shadows than light.

 


	2. Hello Again

Natalie woke up late into the morning with a groan and a stiff neck from sleeping on her stomach for much too long. Her pale pink sheets were wrinkled and pooled around her hips, making her look more comfortable than she felt. After a long moment, Natalie eventually sat up, tugging at the tight dress that was cutting into her waist. While she stood and reached around to tug the zipper on her back down, she struggled to recall the events of the previous evening, namely, how she managed to get herself home.  

 

Searching back, she remembered the taste of cranberries and vodka, warm hands on her back, and a deep voice, but that left her with more questions than answers. Shaking away the thoughts that buzzed around her like flies, Natalie trekked into her kitchen, dropping the soiled dress that smelled like cigarettes and beer into her hamper. A sigh of relief slipped past her lips when she spotted her wallet, phone, and keys in a neat pile on her counter.

 

With the knowledge that she made it home without losing something important, Natalie slipped into the shower and washed away the night, willing the memories (or lack of) to disappear down the drain. She wiped the fog from the mirror and stared back at her face, laughing at the tracks of black makeup that were streaming down her face, but stopped when her giggles made her head pound worse with the headache that was forming. Makeup remover cleaned the tracks off easily, and with her hair in a towel, Natalie wandered into the kitchen.

 

The headache pounded in her temples, and when Natalie went to search for painkillers, she found two set out on the table with a glass of water. She drained the water with the medicine, and spotted a note on her floral stationary. Neat, but unmistakably masculine handwriting spelled out a request to not call again, and instead of a signature, there was an apartment number scrawled at the bottom of the page like an afterthought.

 

Recollection rung through Natalie like a shot, and she remembered the wide frame of a man who walked her back to her apartment, but it plagued Natalie that she could not picture the man’s face. While it didn’t surprise her that she could picture his strong arms and dark hair easily, it annoyed her that his face escaped her memory, because she remembered thinking that he was certainly handsome. 

 

Natalie reread the note once more, and decided she would just have to walk down a flight of stairs to pay Mr. Apartment L a visit to thank him properly for getting her home safe last night. Natalie threw the door to her apartment open in excitement at her mission, and locked eyes with her neighbor across the hallway who looked horrified to see her.

 

“Good morning!” Natalie greeted, but her neighbor ducked back into her apartment, and Natalie went to run a hand through her hair, only to realize that her hair was still in the towel, and she wasn’t dressed either. In a panic, Natalie tucked the towel around her body tighter, and practically ran back into her apartment.

 

After collecting herself, and tugging on appropriate clothing, Natalie headed out of her apartment again. She took the carpeted stairs carefully, wondering why the image of her being carried up the stairwell was playing through her mind like a wisp of a dream. When she turned the corner onto the landing, she spotted a pair of shoes that looked strangely familiar, and her feet ached with phantom pains when she picked up the black pumps.

 

The hallway of the fourth floor was identical to hers, but the familiar tan carpet seemed to stretch on, leading her to somewhere unknown. Natalie did not have to look for apartment L, considering she lived just a flight of stairs up, but something like nerves sat heavy in her stomach.

 

The white door of apartment L bore no decorations, and Natalie hesitated a moment before she resolved to knock. The noise seemed to echo, ringing cacophonously down the empty hallway. Natalie stood in silence for a moment, waiting for the man to come to the door, but also wondering what she was going to say when he opened the door.

 

The knock at his door did not surprise Lucifer, and honestly he had been expecting this moment all morning. Dragging a hand down his face, he kicked himself again for writing his apartment details on the note instead of just leaving well enough alone. He peered down at the redhead through the peephole in his door, and he considered pretending he wasn’t home, but if her patient stance told him anything, it was that he should just get her gratitude over with.

 

She raised her fist to knock again, and Luce opened the door, succeeding in startling her, but she only let the shock play across her face for a moment before she recovered. Luce looked down at her, and she stood significantly shorter before him than he remembered, but he spotted the black shoes in her hand. Disgust played across his face as the memory of her kicking them off played through his mind again.

 

Natalie looked up at Luce for a moment, before averting her eyes and staring down at the tan carpet that lined every inch of the apartment complex. Luce tilted his head to the side, and watched her avoid his gaze, noting the way her cheeks had flushed when she met his eyes initially. If she hadn’t drunkenly admitted that she thought he was handsome, Luce would have thought her apologetic avoidance was fear, but he could see past it.

 

Her chest heaved when she took a steadying breath, and she explained, “I know you said not to call, but you didn’t mention visiting. Also, I’m not sure how I was supposed to get your number anyway.”

 

“I don’t know how you got my number in the first place, girl,” Luce shrugged, “but you called my number, a _wrong_ number for you to call.”

 

Natalie pointedly ignored the condescending tone in his voice and said, “Well, considering I woke up at home and not dead in some, some murder shack, I think I probably called a right number.”

 

“Do you even remember last night, girl?” Luce asked, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against his doorframe. Natalie definitely did not watch his arms move, nor did she notice the tightness of his black shirt, and how it almost looked silly when paired with the loose jeans that were sitting low on his hips.

 

“Will you judge me if I say no?”

 

“Shit, girl, after last night, I don’t know what else you could do that I could judge you on.”

 

“Humor me, stranger.”

 

“Well, since you’re so polite,” Luce drawled sarcastically, “from what I gathered, you got my number off a bathroom stall at a bar, and called me since your friends ditched you. Being the great gentleman I am, I made sure you got home safe, because someone doesn’t like to keep their shoes on or take elevators.”

 

Natalie held her shoes out a little further from her, “can you blame me?”

 

Luce shook his head, and ignored her, “now, is that all?”

 

“Yes, well,” Natalie nodded, then stopped, taking a step closer to Luce, "how can I say thanks? I can buy you coffee or lunch or movie tickets…" she trailed off, waiting for him to suggest something.

 

"You can repay me by leaving me alone."

 

Her lips pinched together in a frown, but Natalie nodded, “Got it."

 

Offering a cocked eyebrow in response, Luce stepped back in his apartment and closed the door, happy to have that over with. However, the silence didn’t last forever. He hadn’t even taken a step back from the door before another knock sounded, and Luce hated that he wasn’t surprised.

 

However, annoyance still bubbled up in him when he opened the door again, staring down at a sheepish Natalie.

 

"But are you really sure there's _nothing_ –"

 

Luce shut the door in her face in response.

* * *

 

Luce returned from a short run to the fire station to get his phone charger, and caught sight of the girl as she turned the corner and disappeared into the stairwell, prompting him to take the elevator up to his apartment. He punched the button for the fourth floor right as a woman stumbled through the front doors, requesting he held the elevator in a tone he assumed she used at work.

 

Luce complied, sticking a hand out to hold the elevator while she collected herself and adjusted her blazer before she entered the elevator behind him. She pressed the button for the third floor, and they stood in silence while the elevator whisked them up, and opened the doors on the second floor to let an elderly gentleman on the elevator who had enough wrinkles to match the number of white hairs in his mustache, and he indicated the fifth floor was his destination.

 

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Luce finally reached his floor, and let himself in to his apartment that was too warm for early spring, reminding him of long nights and stiff drinks, but his blank walls greeted him coldly. The sparsely decorated apartment felt lonely, like no one had lived there for many years and the life had long stopped dancing on the carpeted floors. He shook his head to clear away the thoughts, and caught sight of an orange letter on the floor. When he picked it up, ‘Stranger,’ was written across the envelope, and he scoffed, not knowing what to expect in this letter from the girl on the fifth floor.

 

He could have anticipated many things, but a gift card to the new frozen yogurt shop a block away from the apartment building was a nice surprise. He slid the card into his leather wallet, and glanced at the letter, his lips quirking into a smile as he read the thank you note she had penned in her sloppy handwriting that was filled with loops and curves.

 

She signed it, “Natalie,” but had drawn a line through it, and wrote “Apartment L, 5th floor” underneath it, and he let out a sharp bark of laughter at her peculiar sense of irony.

 

After a moment of hesitation, he decided against throwing the card away, and sat it on his crowded countertop. The card was a bright pop of color surrounded by bills and mail promotions that Luce had never bothered to read, but wasn’t ready to pitch.

 

Luce pulled on a baseball cap, and tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans that had seen so many years of use that the denim was faded in a perfect square where his wallet always went. He stepped into the hallway of the building and locked the door behind him. Hooking his key ring on his belt loop, Luce took the stairs this time, quickly walking to the first floor, and out of the building towards the frozen yogurt place, knowing that he would forget about the gift card otherwise.

 

The walk down the block was short and uneventful, and Luce was unimpressed by the yogurt shop, proudly named Let’s Fro-Go, which almost made him turn away. The white, smooth furniture was trying way too hard to be modern and cutting edge, and Luce looked around at the customers idly milling around who obviously spent too much time evaluating local places for their blogs. The shop’s toppings spread, however, boasted brownie pieces, and he left the yogurt shop with a chocolate concoction that could have given Willy Wonka a cavity.

 

He enjoyed the treat on his walk back to the apartment, and he stepped into the elevator, holding his small red spoon between his teeth. His fingers hovered over the button to take him to the fifth floor, but eventually he pressed the button for the fourth floor, and returned to his own apartment.

 

His jeans were practically abandoned at the door when he decided he was going to spend this evening at home, and not playing knight in shining armor to random girls who ended up with his number.

 

His black shirt clung to his stomach as he relaxed on his small couch that was given to him, and he flipped through channels that didn’t interest him in search of something to entertain him. Eventually he settled on a bloody Spartan movie he had seen almost too many times at that point, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

When the credits rolled, he resolved to go do the laundry he had been putting off for far too long, and the pile in the corner of his bathroom was threatening to topple over at any second. He never minded doing laundry at the fire station, but there was just something about doing it on his own that made him lazy. Once all of his dirty clothes had been gathered into a basket, Luce put on a pair of sweatpants, and took a moment to pull the draw string tight.

 

The small laundry room was empty when Luce entered, save for one person in the corner, who he ignored while dumping the load of his clothes into one of the available washing machines. It smelled more like mildew than soap in the confined area, but Luce tried not to think about it as he added in the laundry detergent.

 

The other person in the room let out a sound of frustration, and Luce paused his motions to look up at the figure, and had to bite back a groan when he recognized her bright red hair. It was piled on top of her head in a loose mess, and when she spun around, he saw she was trying to scrub stains out of her black heels.

 

“I wouldn’t bother, girl,” Luce said, offhandedly, “they gave you blisters anyway.”

 

Natalie sighed, and eventually nodded, tossing the shoes into the trashcan tucked in the corner of the room.

 

“I hate to ask, because I’ve already asked so much of you,” Natalie began, making Luce dread the rest of her sentence.

 

“And yet, you’re gonna ask anyway.”

 

“ _But,_ ” Natalie continued, pointedly ignoring Luce’s heavy sarcasm, “but I’ve only got like, like three things to wash, could I just throw them in with your clothes?”

 

Luce glanced at the familiar red dress in her laundry basket, and nodded, unsure why he kept saying yes to her. Unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, Natalie quickly dumped the contents of her basket into the same machine, taking note of all the black and red in his clothing.

 

A slight giggle bubbled from her lips, and she explained, "do you ever have to do a light load of laundry?"

 

"I wash my towels occasionally." His deadpan tone made Natalie break out in a new peal of laughter, and the corner of Luce’s mouth quirked up as he watched her.

 

Natalie’s New York University sweatshirt hung off her shoulder, and the hem was uneven from where she had obviously cut it herself. The gray sweatshirt was faded with time, and pooled loosely around her hips when she hoisted herself up onto the washing machine that was filled with their clothes.

 

“So,” Natalie began lamely, after a moment of silence where Luce’s dark eyes were fixed on her, trying to figure out her intentions, “I never got your name.”

 

“Lucifer.”

 

“Like the _devil_?” She asked, clearly shocked by his name, and casual tone.

 

Luce nodded, unbothered, “yep, exactly like the devil.”

 

Natalie attempted to match his level gaze, but she couldn’t erase the curiosity that she knew was written across her face, and she wanted to beg for the rest of the story behind his name, which was precisely why Luce turned away from her and exited the small laundry room.

 

He let the door slam behind him dramatically before poking his head back after a moment, “I’ll assume you’ll stay here and bring the laundry up when it’s dry. You know the apartment.”

 

Natalie jumped off the washing machine, and interjected, “wait, wait! But, what am –“

 

“Figure it out, girl,” Luce ordered, and Natalie dramatically collapsed into a chair with a questionable stain on the seat, letting out a noise of indignation in his direction, which had Luce grinning his whole walk up the carpeted stairs.  

 

When Natalie returned his basket an hour or so later, he hung his shirts in his closet and didn’t have to straighten the collars himself. The t-shirts bearing his fire station’s number were neatly folded at the bottom of the basket and when he stuck them in the drawer, he uncovered a single purple sock that obviously was not his.

 

Luce slowly walked back to the kitchen and dropped the sock on his counter next to her card, knowing she would definitely back to retrieve it. He shook his head, staring at the two spots of color in his otherwise neutral apartment that threatened to make his home feel foreign. Running his hands through his hair, Lucifer was sick with the realization that she was much cleverer than he was giving her credit for.


	3. A Purely Social Call

 

The muggy humidity of the carefully controlled greenhouse plastered the loose strands of hair that had escaped from the loose bun to Natalie’s face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as she crouched over a hanging plant.  The bright turquoise of the growing sample of _Strongylodon macrobotrys_ made the heat worth it, and Natalie ignored the sweat dripping down her back as she quickly jotted down some notes about the growing plant in a dirt stained spiral notebook. The simulated tropical atmosphere was precisely what the delicate blooms of the plant required, and Natalie purposefully inspected each petal.

 

She drew a dirty hand across her forehead, leaving sweaty streaks of near black dirt on her pale skin like war paint. The spiral notebook smacked on her desk, but the creaking of the carefully rigged up water systems and the whir of fans creating artificial humidity swallowed the noise, as well at the whining of the chair Natalie collapsed into. She quickly recorded an audio file of her observations, then stood to stretch.

 

Her back popped silently in her loud, organic laboratory, and Natalie let a slow smile spread on her cheeks when she gazed at her messy surroundings. She rinsed her hands with cold water, but didn’t bother to scrub under her fingernails and up her dirty forearms. She knew she would shower when she got home anyhow. The rubber boots on her feet were kicked into the corner and Natalie pulled the gardening gloves that she never wore, but still kept from the back pocket of her jeans and threw them on top of the discarded boots.

 

The heavy door closed hard behind her, and Natalie double checked to make sure the door was locked before looping the heavy key ring on the belt loop of her pants. They announced her presence wherever she went, and had pressed an indention into the soft denim where they laid so heavy that Natalie had to tighten her belt when she wore them.

 

Her walk back home was unhurried, and Natalie enjoyed the slow pace. Her scuffed sneakers padded gently on the busy streets that were coming alive with the early spring air, and the blush of the sunrise on the horizon. The night-blooming plant was messing with her sleep schedule, but the heavy turquoise blooms were worth staying up for, and Natalie didn’t mind the quiet walks home in the early light.

 

She rounded the last corner and her apartment building came into view, the tall building stretching high, but not as high as the neighboring buildings that seemed to interrupt the clouds in their reaches. In her haste to get home and wash the dirt off her skin that was now dried and flaking off, she didn’t realize there was a figure in front of her until she bulldozed straight into him, managing to knock herself off balance without budging the stranger.

 

Strong hands gripped Natalie’s forearms, holding her firmly in place as she got her bearings back. The bright red firefighter’s logo on a well-worn t-shirt came into focus first, and Natalie lifted her eyes from the symbol right over the man’s heart up to meet his eyes. Wide brown eyes met her gaze, and Natalie recognized the face before she could place the name.

  
“Funny how we keep running in to each other, isn’t it?” Natalie let a toothy grin spread on her face, and the man dropped his hands from her arms.

 

Lucifer readjusted the strap of his pack on his shoulder, “Hilarious.” He said, flatly.

 

Exhaustion had painted itself on his handsome features, and he was eager to get upstairs and collapse into bed. His recent 24 hour shift had left him exhausted, and reeling after three calls out to fight stubborn fires that fought back as hard as his squad did. All he wanted was a little peace and quiet and a hot shower, but for some godforsaken reason, the girl from upstairs was attempting to c _hat_ with him at the asscrack of dawn on a Thursday.

 

Her excitement crashed into his exhaustion, leaving Luce irritated by the time they had reached the door to the apartment building. His eyebrows were drawn together in irritation as the girl rattled off something about flowers and her laboratories that Luce tried his best to ignore. She had dirt down her jeans, under her fingernails, and streaked across her face like a child who went too wild with finger paints.

 

Coffee. He needed coffee.

 

She split off at the elevator, bidding him a good day as she trotted towards the stairwell, all too eager to climb five flights at such an early hour. Alone in the elevator, Luce was grateful for the silence that he had missed for the last day. The fire station was a constant swirl of noise and activity, the voices of all the other firefighters growing louder as they all talked over each other, and bragged about carful saves and roaring fires.

 

His apartment was whisper quiet when he entered, and the rattle of his keys hitting the counter seemed like it could be heard for miles. The white walls stared back at him as he unpacked his bag quickly, and then he undressed, peeling the navy shirt and pants from his body.

 

The hot water of the shower rinsed away ash and soot that belonged to a house full of memories. The mother of the family had pressed her face into her daughter’s hair as she watched their house burn, devouring years of their lives and memories in mere seconds.

 

His chief was better at handling grieving families than Luce was, and he was glad when the dark skinned old man had stepped in to comfort the family. The low baritone of his voice carried over the crackle of the dying flames, and Luce watched his thick mustache move when he spoke to the mother. His earth brown eyes crinkled with sympathy, and he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and guided her towards his chest. It was so easy for the woman to allow herself to be pulled into an embrace and sob her sorrows into his chest, and Luce’s fingers twitched, confused and cold.

 

Fire was an equal opportunity devourer of people, and Luce hated it. It was satisfying to crush the last smoldering ember of the house under the heel of his boot before he called the all clear.

 

Lucifer turned the shower off and stepped into his bathroom, rubbing the towel through his hair. It had gotten far too long in his negligence, and he pushed it back out of his face with steady hands. Dark stubble on his face made him look intimidating in the harsh bathroom lights, and he tossed out the idea of shaving before he pulled on a pair of clean underwear and fell into bed.

 

He could easily ignore the bright sunlight shining in his bedroom, and he was hovering the thin line between being awake and dreaming in minutes. Just as soon as sleep was about to overtake him, he heard singing from above him, and the hum of the pipes, and _shit_. His little upstairs neighbor apparently thought she was performing for an audience, and she drew out the notes to a song he didn’t know, and apparently neither did she.

 

Natalie watched the dirt swirl down the drain, coloring the water a healthy brown before it disappeared. When the steaming water finally ran clear, she worked soap into her hair, washing away the sweat and humidity that made her hair stringy. She sang the familiar tune of a song she had heard on the radio, making up lyrics where her own knowledge faltered.

 

The rose scented soap was gentle on her face as she scrubbed away the dirt streaked on her forehead, that she belatedly realized was there after she had spoken to Lucifer that morning. She would have been more embarrassed about it if the poor man wasn’t dead on his feet, but as it was, his pupils were blown wide with exhaustion and she doubted he cared about a little dirt. He had looked right through her as she babbled about her botanical observations from the morning, but she was just happy to report her findings to something that didn’t do photosynthesis.

 

Her voice cracked over the high notes, but she didn’t reign in her volume. Natalie competed with the old pipes, but finally stopped her singing when she got out of the shower, careful not to stumble. She trudged into the kitchen in her pink towel, toothbrush in her mouth as she looked through her cabinets. Natalie had already brushed her teeth that morning, but she never felt completely clean after a shower unless she went through the motions again.

 

She set a fresh pot of coffee to brew, and went to finish her routine. Once she was dressed, with still-wet hair draped over her shoulder, she flipped through morning talks shows with coffee in her hand. When nothing held her interest, she got up and walked to her bedroom to grab her phone that she had careless thrown on her unmade bed earlier.

 

When she went to unlock her phone, there was a text message from an unsaved number that simply read, “Stop singing.”

 

It was sent over fifteen minutes ago, so naturally she knew that they were referring to her shower performance from earlier, but her mind raced through the options of who the message could be from. Sitting down on the corner of her bed, Natalie scrolled through the numbers in her recent outgoing calls, nervously chewing on her bottom lip to discover – yep. That was Luce’s number all right. She felt like she was in on a secret she wasn’t ready to know, and debated on replying with an apology, but her thumb hesitated a moment too long over ‘send,’ and instead she deleted the message.

 

She told herself that she didn’t want to bother him any more than she already had, and that he needed to sleep.

 

And Natalie was right. Luce slept for almost six straight hours, but eventually woke up in the early afternoon. Hunger bit savagely at his stomach, and he shuffled blearily into his kitchen, pausing for just enough time to push his glasses onto his face before he continued. Most of his fresh food was gone, as a result of working four separate 24 hour shifts over the last week, and he groaned at the inevitable knowledge that he was definitely going to be eating something prepackaged today if he didn’t want to go to the store, which he absolutely didn’t.

 

Nothing from a package ever tasted good to Luce – chocolate notwithstanding – and he chewed disdainfully while scrolling through the local news page on his phone. A picture of the chief standing next to the mother and daughter they’d helped last night was on the home page, and a pang of pride lit up in Luce’s chest when he read the mother’s statement about how thankful she was for the firefighters.

 

He checked his notifications to see that his upstairs neighbor never replied to his message, and he frowned. He had expected her to jump at the chance to talk to him again, if her chattiness this morning was any indication, but he supposed a text demanding she stop singing could read as rude.

 

Luce glanced at the sock on the counter and hoped he hadn’t offended her, or he would never get rid of the damned purple sock.

* * *

 

Natalie awoke, seemingly hours later, from a nap she didn’t know she was taking. Her neck was stiff as she stood up from the couch and stretched, feeling the delicious strain on her muscles. She bounced up on the balls of her feet and brushed her fingers through her hair, knowing the wavy mess would be a nightmare now that she had partially slept on it.

 

She didn’t bother checking the mirror, and instead checked her phone. She quickly responded to an email from a student regarding the test tomorrow, and pulled up her text messages again, watching the cursor blink indifferently at her as she hesitated to type a reply to the message that Luce had sent, that she would be a little offended by if she hadn’t known it was sent by her deadpan downstairs neighbor.

 

Figuring he would be awake by now, she sent a carefully reply reading, “Quit singing? Impossible.”

 

Almost as soon as she sent it, Natalie regretted her word choice, hoping that he would pick up on the sarcasm, and the telltale bubble appeared on her screen, signifying that he was replying.

 

“The only thing impossible is getting through that hard head of yours.”

 

The quip made Natalie laugh in earnest, but she replied with sharp sarcasm that she hoped he would appreciate, “Ha ha. You’re one to talk.”

 

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, and Natalie frowned at their short conversation. She hoped she hadn’t offended him, and that he had merely been called away from his phone for a short time, but shook the thought away and momentarily scolding herself for waiting for a reply that may never come. She pushed herself off the doorframe she was leaning on, and headed towards the kitchen in search of something to soothe her dry throat.

 

When his reply of, “Being hard-headed is one of my charms,” lit up her screen, Natalie couldn’t help the smile that crept over her face and turned the corners of her chapped lips upwards.  

* * *

 

Natalie upended the basket of laundry, and watched apathetically as dirt caked jeans, shirts, and socks tumbled into the hungry mouth of the washing machine. She dumped in more soap than was necessary to get the job done, but she wanted to make sure her things were clean. Once the machine was set, Natalie collapsed into a squeaking chair and pull the stack of quizzes that needed to be graded from her bag.

 

From the corner of her eye, Natalie’s phone lit up with a new email, and she responded before sliding the phone back into her bag where it wouldn’t be a distraction. After grading nearly all of the quizzes in her lap, she switched the laundry over, and listened to the old dryer groan under the effort of tumbling the soaked clothes.

 

It took her a moment to block out the noisy distraction, but she found the familiar rhythm of grading quizzes and brokering partial credit for answers quickly. When she finished, she took a moment to arrange the stack carefully, and put them in her bag to be entered into the gradebook later. In the same motion, she pulled her phone from the pocket and thumbed through Facebook notifications that didn’t interest her, and weather updates that did. Spring was days away from rearing its head in full, and the spring equinox was on a countdown in her calendar. She spent the winter solstice shivering on the roof and watching the moon climb to the peak of the sky, and she was happy that the spring equinox promised warmer weather and a clear night.

 

Natalie was in love with the sky, plants, and people. She didn’t love the city, however, because she could count the visible stars above New York with one hand, which was so disheartening she could cry for the injustice. On her infrequent visits home, she would spend nights on the roof or in the grass drinking in the skies with all the thirst of Narcissus before he fell head first into the reflection pool and drowned, love still burning in his eyes.

 

Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she pictured the stars floating down towards her, and Natalie could reach up and catch them as easily as fireflies, and she kept the stars in a jar on her desk. They burned their own little galaxy in her small bedroom, casting shadows of constellations that she named and breathed life into on her lilac walls. Her palms always burned when she blinked her eyes open, chasing white spots in her vision that were shaped like the constellations she had forgotten the names of in her sleep.

 

Her concentration was broken with the timer on the dryer announcing its completion, and Natalie sprung up immediately, glad to finally leave the moldy smelling laundry room with her clean clothes. The five flights of stairs were long and cumbersome, but Natalie pushed on.

 

However, she hesitated on the fourth floor. She wondered what Lucifer was up to today, and if he would want company. Besides, she was missing a sock that she was nearly certain had found its way into his pile of dark laundry, and if she wasn’t so fascinated with science, she might have though the universe was playing fates with her. Quickly, Natalie brushed aside the thought like dry dirt, and her resolve to see him crumbled away as she continued up the stairs to her apartment with a huff.

 

Luce heard the heavy thud of something overhead as he shrugged into a familiar worn shirt bearing his squad’s number in bold red against the dark fabric. He had grown accustomed to the loud banging from his overhead neighbor, but now that he had a face to match the ruckus to, it was impossible not to concoct situations to explain the cacophony of noise. Briefly, he glanced as his phone before berating himself. No text from the girl lit up his screen, and he certainly wouldn’t text her again. It was her turn to either respond to his comment, or start a new topic.

 

Another bang overhead broke his hesitation, and he bit his lip to keep the smile off his face, despite being alone in his apartment, the walls blank with impersonal edges that he had not yet grown used to. He forwent the informal formalities of texting rules, and picked his phone up off the couch arm to type out a message.

 

“Are you trying to hide a body? There’s gotta be an explanation for all the racket, girl.”

 

“Keep up the teasing, and it’ll be your body next.”

 

“At least then I wouldn’t have to hear you banging around up there,” was his sharp reply, and it was immediately met by a bubble that signified that Natalie was typing a response.

 

“I’m just folding my laundry! Hope you didn’t have any dark clothes that needed washing – had room in my machine.”

 

“Oh no, you could have saved me another quarter.”

 

“I still saved you the 1. Don’t spent it all in one place!” He could practically hear the unpracticed excitement in her reply.

 

A sharp bark of laughter escaped him, and his reply was quick, “Dunno, I saw a gumball machine earlier that was practically begging for me.”

 

“Didn’t know they could talk.”

 

“The hard part is getting it to shut up.”

 

“You would know all about telling people to shut up, wouldn’t you? Mr. Stop Singing. Jeez.” The message read sharper than he knew she intended it, so rather than continue the subject, he changed direction slightly.

 

“I know where you live, girl.”

 

“And don’t forget it.”

 

Luce dragged a hand over his face, and relaxed back into the worn cushions of the couch he had picked up secondhand. It was the only piece of furniture in his apartment that had seen any real use, and even his bed saw him less than Bed 12 at the fire station. He wasn’t sure when his apartment began to feel less like his home than the fire station, and he glanced around at the emptiness that seemed to surround him on all sides, and he stood and ran his fingers through his hair. A single framed photo hung on the wall, displaying his smiling family, but even looking at it brought a bitter taste to his mouth, and he frowned.

 

A sharp knock at his door broke his focus on the quickly yellowing photo, and his frowned deepened. He thought he scared those damned Boy Scouts off for good – “I will _never_ buy popcorn, come see me again at cookie time, you skirts” – but when he opened the door, it was none other than his upstairs neighbor.

 

She held a single purple sock out in front of her with two fingers, and looked at him almost guiltily.

 

“I’m looking to make a match,” she said as way of an explanation, and her words seemed soft compared to the loud, shameless girl who dragged him halfway across town, and insisted on taking the stairs despite her heels and intoxication.

 

Luce nodded, “I was wondering when you were gonna come back. I was just about to put up “Lost Sock” posters,” and he watched the joke coax a laugh out of her before he stepped back into his apartment to retrieve her sock.

 

He didn’t invite her in, but she followed him as though he did, and he saw her appraising his apartment with carefully placed concern. Her eyebrows drew together as she took in the lack of color, and more importantly, the lack of personality and life that so obviously filled her own apartment. It was strange, and she got the impression that no one lived here, despite his obvious presence and the cold coffee in the pot.

 

He read the judgement on her face like an overdue bill notice, and he tossed an explanation carelessly over his shoulder, not caring if it stuck, “I live at the fire station when I work, so I basically split my life between these two places.”

 

Natalie nodded slowly and thoughtfully, seeming to chew on the information like expired bubblegum. When he offered her the match to her sock, their fingers brushed and even though she had practically been draped over him the night she had six margaritas too many, the light touch sent a lightning bolt down her spine. She tucked the socks in her back pocket as an excuse to give her hands something to do, and Luce rubbed a hand over the stubble dotting his face.

 

She didn’t remember him wearing glasses the last time they met, but she also didn’t remember lots of things from the night they met, so she couldn’t really make any objective observations. She had no more excuse to stay, now that the sock’s match had been returned to the owner, but she found herself lingering, even as she walked back to the door way the same way she came. He desperately needed some color in his apartment, and even her hair alone offered a change of pace to the monochrome color scheme.

 

Once in the threshold of the door, Natalie hesitated, and Luce leaned against the doorframe to watch her flounder under her own words. She thanked him for holding onto her sock and not throwing it out, but her thanks were waved off.

 

“You see,” Luce quipped, “I’m just saving up favors, girl. One day you’ll owe me big in exchange for all these small ones.”

 

“Just say the word,” Natalie told him, her tone the epitome of mock seriousness.

 

 A stern nod from Luce, and Natalie bit her lip to keep the smile from creeping over her expression like vines that were rooted in her soul.

 

“I’ll be sure to let you know,” he assures her, “though it might not be as social of a call as your first one was.”

 

Natalie heaved out a sigh, “Well thank God for small mercies, I was a mess that night.”

 

Lucifer nodded, and Natalie finally took her leave, spinning on her heel and marching the familiar track back to the stairs leading upwards.

 

The door shut hard behind him as Luce relaxed back on the couch, his fingertips still buzzing from their brief contact earlier, and shoved his hand into his pocket until his skin remembered nothing but the harsh bite of denim.

 

_Thank God for small mercies._

 


	4. An Evening Visit

The sky shattered into a million fragments of light through the clouds that overcast morning. Slivers of the sunrise managed to peek through and wink down at Luce as he scrubbed the soapy sponge against the side of the fire engine, working a stubborn grease stain away. The humid spring morning promised a hot day to follow, and perspiration dotted his forehead, despite the fact that he'd already pulled off his dark t-shirt.

 

The whole station had been up since a call right after two in the morning had cut through their sleep, and effectively dashed all their hopes of an uninterrupted night. The little kitchen fire was no challenge to extinguish: the hardest part of the early morning run was peeling the sobbing old woman off his arm, and assuring her that her cats were fine and all accounted for. He wished he could have offered more sympathy for the grandma who had accidentally set fire to her towels in preparation of a hot cup of tea to help her sleep, but the early morning wore on Luce’s patience and sagging shoulders heavier than his uniform.

 

Her sobs had started again when he finally pried her off, but she was quickly swept away by the chief's comforting words and low voice reassuring her. The ride back to the station was quiet, despite the buzz of adrenaline that hadn't been worked off, and Lucifer watched Ipos’ heavy boots tap a nervous sympathy on the metal plating of the floor. His own hands worried over his gloves, tracing the heavy fabric and pulling out bits of metal shavings and ash that had wedged their way into the fingers. It would have been too easy for the old woman to be lost in a fire that was no one’s fault, and the thought stole sleep from him.

 

Which was why Luce was scrubbing down the fire engine to give his hands something to do, and to keep his mind from wandering too far from the station. He was nearly bouncing with nervous energy, and scrubbed spots that were long clean while he watched the rising sun. He would bet Natalie was awake, and likely caressing the leaves of whatever plant had caught her attention that morning. She had an odd penchant for being as chipper as a little red bird in the morning, humming about every little thing, but purposeful in her research.

 

She always walked slowly, like she had nowhere to go, and Luce had quickly learned to match her tempo on the mornings they crossed paths, because his long legs and quick pace allowed him to cross the lobby of their apartment building in a handful of strides, but Natalie would still be smiling and waving good morning to the mailman. Her keys jingled on her belt loop as she walked, a constant jarring noise that even the morning buzz of New York couldn’t swallow. She never seemed to notice the jostling keys as she walked, and he could practically picture her face pinch in stoic concentration as she attempted to explain her research to him in a complicated whirlwind of information that he only caught about every third word of.

 

Luce bent to dip the sponge into the now gray, but still soapy water, and wondered what Natalie would say if she knew he planned to upturn the bucket in the small patch of grass in front of the station later.

 

The garage door of the station slammed open, and Ipos came barreling out of the garage door not even a second later, startling Luce out of his thoughts, and pulling his gaze off the sponge in his hands. He looked over to see his friend wrestling Sheila away with one hand, and holding Luce's phone in the other, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what this was about.

 

"Your-"  Ipos called out, gasping out a breath when Sheila elbowed him in the side, "-your phone has been going crazy, Luce."

 

Sheila laced her fingers around Ipos' bicep, trying to slow him down at least, and he lifted her off the ground effortlessly and continued walking.

 

"I told him to leave it alone," Sheila told the air to the right of Luce, in a way that seemed like she didn’t _really_ try that hard.

 

"You didn’t when I told you _who_ was texting him, La La."

 

Sheila dropped off his arm in protest of the nickname and held her ground for a moment, unsure of her bearings, but unwilling to reach for Ipos to give herself a point of reference. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared in Ipos’ direction, more than a hint of a smile teasing at her lips.

 

Luce wiped his free hand on his pants to dry it, then took the phone as it was offered to him, "Looking through my stuff again? Emphasis on _again,_ you asshats.”

 

Ipos ignored him, and leaned closer to Luce in a feigned attempt of subtly, "Who's the girl?"

 

"There's no girl," Luce said, expressionless, as he thumbed through the eight, _eight_ , messages that Natalie had sent.

 

"Her contact is saved as 'Natalie' and she's used at least a hundred emojis in her texts. You're not fooling me, dude."

 

Luce opened his mouth to protest, but Sheila jumped in first, "you didn't mention, _emojis_ , Ipos." She folded her arms in protest and continued, "you never tell me the whole story. It's like the blind leading the blind."

 

"Babe," Ipos said, apologetically, "I was more concerned with _who_ was texting him at six in the morning."

 

"Guys," Luce snapped, bringing their focus back to him, "she's just my neighbor."

 

"Wait, the neighbor you picked up because she was drunk?" The chief asked, stepping around the corner of the garage at the perfectly wrong time.

 

"Not you too," Luce groaned.

 

The chief slapped Luce's bare back, and laughed openly, "we mean well, son."

 

"I don't," Ipos chuckled, grabbing the phone from Luce's hands after he unlocked it. "Oh Lucifer," Ipos pitched his voice up, "I missed you this morning, sigh emoji. I was looking forward to-" his performance was cut off in a huff as Luce threw the soaked sponge into Ipos' stomach.

 

There was enough force behind the motion to distract Ipos for long enough that Luce grabbed his phone back, and his shirt that was thrown over the mirror of the fire engine in the same motion. He tugged the navy shirt over his head as he stormed up the stairs, the teasing and the early hour putting him in a bad mood, and hearing Ipos and Sheila’s laughter echo behind him did nothing to improve it. He fell into Bed 12 heavily and toed his boots off as he started up at the high ceilings.

 

Álvarez was the only other sign of life in the bunk area, but her loud snores threatened to suck the blankets around her waist up to her mouth. No one dared mention it to her, as the young Cuban woman had a firmly set jaw and a mean right hook. However, in this moment he was glad for her snores because they indicated she was decidedly asleep, and he felt safe enough to unlock his phone again and read through the message Natalie had sent him.

 

"Hey Lucifer! Missed you this morning, I was looking forward to telling you all about my newest plant."

 

He almost smiled at that – his arrivals and departures to and from shifts almost always lined up with the time Natalie returned from her labs. He didn't want to say he enjoyed their few minutes together, but he certainly didn't hate them.

 

"I wore my socks today - the purple pair. So happy to be reunited!"

 

"Are you out fighting an impressive fire?"

 

"It's almost not fun to sing in the shower without you below me, being annoyed."

 

"Almost."

 

Luce rolled his eyes at that, and read the next.

 

"Spent my quarter on a gumball today. Turned out to be a bouncy ball. Yikes. Warn a girl, that's a choking hazard."

 

"Stay safe today, Luce. Save some lives!"

 

Hesitating a moment, Lucifer typed out a quick reply, "Didn't save any lives today, did save a cup of tea from further harm tho."

 

Her reply was immediate, and expected, "How brave and valiant of you."

 

He permitted himself a smile, and closed his eyes, picturing the mischievous and defiant spark in her deep green eyes that he hasn’t seen nearly enough. He awoke hours later, disorientated and laying on top of his blankets with his phone clutched over his heart.

* * *

 

Natalie was humming quietly to herself, not bothering to following any sort of rhythm as she tapped her heel against the dirty linoleum floor of her lab, entering measurements of growth into the computer. Normally she allotted data entry to the student assisting in her research, but the young girl had an exam today, and Natalie insisted that she took the day off to study. The student thanked her profusely, but Natalie waved it off, knowing all too well the stress of college.

 

Her research in the labs was her last step of her dissertation that would be rewarded with her doctorate in botany and plant pathology. It was a long time coming, and she had spent fifteen semesters and three summers working towards her Ph.D., and with her upcoming graduation that felt too soon, despite the weeks separating them, she was brimming with an unmatched energy, desperate to finish.

 

The spreadsheet displayed all the growth measurements in neat rows, and Natalie stood up, feeling her muscles loosen like springs being released from tension. It was unnatural for her to sit in a hardback rolling chair for too long, instead her body was conditioned for movement. She spent long hours hiking unnamed trails in all the parks upstate New York had to offer, letting herself get lost in the foliage that was missing in the grey, stinking city.

 

Making sure her phone was in the pocket of her high waisted jeans, she locked the door behind her and clipped the carabiner on her belt loop in a practiced motion. She took the four flights of steps down from the greenhouse carefully, despite her eagerness to enjoy the sun that was bullying its way around the oppressive clouds.

 

Once on the open streets, Natalie pulled her phone out of her pocket to read a new message from Luce that read, “Do you think bleach takes soot out of clothes?”

 

The time stamp on the message indicated he sent it a half hour ago, and before she could reply, a new messaged popped up on her screen, “No. No it does not.”

 

An attached picture of a grey tank top with a bleach stain in the middle popped up on her screen next, and without zooming in she could still see the black spots of what was presumably soot in the middle of the bleach. She giggled at the picture and typed, “They don’t teach you laundry etiquette in firefighter school?”

 

“What can I say,” came his quick reply, “I didn’t pass all my classes.”

 

She smiled at that and tucked her phone back into her pocket, watching her step as she plunged into the heavy throng of people crowding around the outskirts of the city. It was abnormally hot for March, the humidity already threatening to make the denim of her jeans feel heavy around her legs, and she doubled her efforts, her footsteps quickening. Her pace made her keys rattle more violently against her hip and she was conscious of the way people looked at her when she passed, but it didn’t offend her. She offered warm smiles in reply to wondering gazes and she was grateful for the reprieve from the crowd when she met the end of it.

 

Her apartment was just another block down the road, and when she entered, the air conditioning was not yet on, but she didn’t mind. The walk up the stairs was long, but not difficult. It was far harder to peel the jeans off her body, but she was grateful for the air on her legs that rewarded her efforts.

  
She had already taken a shower that morning and hadn’t gotten dirty enough doing data entry to warrant another one, so instead she washed her face with cold water and pulled her hair in a high ponytail to get it off her neck. The grocery list sitting on her counter was taunting her, so she pulled on a pair of shorts and grumbled to herself as she left her apartment again, locking it behind her.

 

The little corner grocery store typically carried everything she needed, as she wasn’t too inclined towards specialty items, and her weekly shopping trips didn’t change much in the way of variety. She bought the typical necessities, (bread, milk, fruit snacks) and stocked up on things like apples and chicken breasts and god forbid – _kale –_ as she needed them. She was about halfway through her list when her pocket vibrated.

 

She fished the phone from her pocket, switching her grocery basket to the other hand, and read, “Just got called out to help a teenager stuck in a swing set – LMAO. Details to follow.”

 

Shaking her head as she smiled, Natalie continued on with her list, eventually checking out and chatting with the Vietnamese woman who ran the store. At the elderly woman’s urging, Natalie went home with two more lemons than she planned to go home with – which was none at all – but as the lady said, they were on sale, and Natalie couldn’t say no to her motherly, brown eyes.

 

She carried her reusable grocery bags, the canvas stained, worn, and familiar, up the stairs and set the filled bags on the counter to be unpacked. She unclipped her keys and placed them on the table with her purse and phone. A notification sent her reaching for her phone, but she set it down with a strange sense of disappointment when she saw it was just an email. With her groceries put away, she tucked the bags in their usual spot to be filled again next week at the same store, and Natalie kicked her sandals off into the corner.

 

She had just collapsed onto the couch, already exhausted even though the day was just now teasing into late afternoon, the sun slanting orange through the doors of her balcony, when she heard a knock at the door. Natalie groaned when she rose from her worn couch, and opened the door without peering through the peephole to see who was calling.

 

To her shock, Luce stood outside when she opened the door, his filthy boots treading on her welcome mat, and he smiled down at her, lopsided and teasing as he stepped through her door like he’d done it countless times before. Luce dropped the bag he normally carried when coming home from shifts in the corner next to Natalie’s coat rack, where a rain jacket, a stained flannel shirt, and patterned scarf were all hung.

 

“There’s too many details to text, girl,” Luce explained, standing in the entrance to her apartment. He stood with his feet apart, and his hands on his belt in an authoritative stance that made Natalie feel like she was the one that wasn’t supposed to be there. His navy uniform gave him a feel of power that didn’t belong in her pastel apartment, and Natalie held up her hand, effectively silencing him.

 

“I won’t listen to a word of it until you take off your boots,” Natalie chastised, gesturing to his boots that were almost black with soot and filth.

  
Lucifer stared down at his feet in almost a comical way, as if it never occurred to him that his boots were dirty, but he acquiesced, kicking off his boots with an ease that seemed impossible to accomplish with the laces that trailed from toe up to his ankle where the boot stopped.

 

Now in black socks, his intimidation factor somehow fell about ten clicks, and she waved him in and asked him to sit. He agreed to the offer, and collapsed on her couch, groaning. Natalie hovered in the kitchen that was open to the living room and after a moment, she asked if she could get him anything.

 

Luce ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up so that it partially fell in his face and shook his head, “No, I’m good.”

 

“Are you sure?” Natalie prompted, “I’ve got water, tea, fruit snacks.”

 

He sat back on the couch, shaking his head, “No, I’m sure. Sit down, let me tell you about this kid.”

 

Natalie obeyed, sitting on the couch and turning towards him, crossing her bare feet under her and leaning forward to listen to him.

 

“So we get there, and this nasty ass teenager – probably hasn’t showered in a week, maybe more – but he’s obviously too big for this swing set, right? So first thing, Ipos is elbowing me in the side and I follow him –”

 

“Wait, who’s Ipos?” Natalie asked, interrupting the story.

 

“Oh,” Lucifer paused, “Ipos is one of the people in my squad, real nice guy, kind of a dick sometimes.” He raised an eyebrow when Natalie laughed, “We’ve been friends for – shit, I guess almost seven or eight years.”

 

Lucifer brought his hand up to rub his chin as he played through the years in his mind, surprised at the number, when Natalie spoke again, “He’s gotta be a hell of a guy to put up with you.” Luce raised is eyebrows in amusement and Natalie’s smile grew wider, “I’d love to meet him sometime.”

 

The scene from the station that morning played through Luce’s mind and he shuddered, “Maybe later. Anyway, Ipos and I go and we try to lift the kid out without wrecking the swing he’s in, right?”

 

“He was there alone?” Natalie interrupted again, her green eyes wide with interest and puzzlement.

 

“Yeah,” Luce shook his head, “kid said his friends took off before we showed up. Must have been mixed up in something they didn’t want us to know if they bolted – even though we’re not the cops. I wouldn’t have missed that though, if my friend was stuck, I’d wanna be there to see every second of it.”

 

“But, but who would leave?” Natalie chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes warring between concern and amusement as she leaned closer into Luce, smelling the residual scent of smoke that seemed to cling to him like cologne.

 

“Shitty friends, darling. Now let me tell the story.” Luce leaned back into the couch, fixing Natalie still with his dark eyes.

 

She held his gaze and nodded, opening her mouth to say something and then deciding against it. Instead she reached up to pull the hair tie out of her mess of waves. She winced when tangles kept it fixed in place, and she watched Luce through eyes slanted in concentration as she worked the knots out and eventually let her hair curl around her face. 

 

Momentarily distracted by Natalie’s bright hair that held his attention like the orange flames he tamed for a living, Luce blinked rapidly to bring his focus back into place, “So anyway, we can’t get him out, and Álvarez comes around the truck with the jaws of life and this kid gets even paler, if that’s possible. She’s a little snip happy, so all of us know to steer clear when she’s coming at you with the jaws – but this kid, _shit_.”

 

He paused the story, and Natalie took the opportunity to ask who Álvarez was, curious about his other coworkers.

 

“Álvarez,” Luce grinned, white teeth shocking Natalie and she found herself matching the smile, “She’s not even five feet tall, but she’s a pocketful of pure terror. She can carry my sorry ass up a flight of stairs without blinking, and we don’t forget it.”

 

Natalie gasped in wonder, and then a giggle echoed through her as she imagined the poor kid stuck in a kiddy swing, and what he must have been thinking as the short Latina woman came at him, all devilish smiles, not unlike the one Luce was sharing with her now.

 

“So she _slams_ the jaws down, inches away from his junk, and he jumps so violently I honestly thought he would free himself out of fear. ‘Course it’s never that easy, so Álvarez cuts him free, and the kid practically shoves himself away from her, cupping his junk like that would protect him if she decided to come for him. Then he books it.”

 

“Wait, really? After you guys do all that for him, he just runs?”

 

Luce sighs, nodding gravely like this was a serious offense, “Yep. Gone just like that. And as soon as his skinny white ass was around the corner, all of us were cracking up.”

 

Natalie laughed at how casually he explained the ending, and she leaned her shoulder against his, “A little anticlimactic.”

 

“Them’s the breaks, kid. Sometimes it’s a raging fire, sometimes it’s a high schooler in a swing set who’s got something just this side of legal in his veins,” Humor still filled his voice as his words turned darker, and he trailed off.

 

Natalie didn’t move from her relaxed position, and if he noticed how she leaned against him, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he told her the story of the old woman from last night, and she chased his laughter with her own when appropriate, feigning horror over the cat head count. Mainly she was merely content to listen to him tell exciting tales of rescue that she knew he was exaggerating just to tease her. The orange light of the sky dwindled to purple, and then deep navy and she yawned against his arm when he started the story of an apartment fire that began with nail polish, lemonade, and a phone charger.

 

She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but the warmth of him pressed against her cheek disappeared and she whined, low in her throat as warm hands settled on her upper arms, “Come on, kid,” his familiar voice was low in her ears and she wanted to turn her face into his chest.

 

Instead, she obeyed his prompts to stand up, and he helped her to her bedroom, in a strange echo of the first time they met. Her room blinked into focus just in time for her to see the back of his shirt as he closed the door behind him. Natalie unbuttoned her shorts and shoved them off her body while she heard Luce fumble with his bag and her door, but she made no move to aid him, and instead she fell into bed and right back to sleep.

 

His deep voice narrated her dreams, and when her alarm went off the next morning, she scrambled for her phone, both to silence the grating alarm, and to check for any texts. Various emails and weather updates were all dismissed, and Natalie read the only message that mattered to her that morning.

 

“Can’t believe my stories put you to sleep – guess in the future I’ll have to make up more exciting lies. Sleep well, Natalie.”

 

Natalie reread the message until she memorized the words, and she felt like warm honey had settled into her lungs, making her breath stick and her chest burn. _Sleep well, Natalie._

 


	5. The Equinox

The sunrise grated against Lucifer’s nerves as he squinted against its unrelenting assault through the smallest crack in the yellowed blinds, and he consciously shifted his attention back to Natalie and loosened his grip on the cheap McDonald’s coffee cup he was threatening to crush. Natalie, unaware of his scrutiny, was carefully tapping a sugar packet into her own cup of coffee, not bothering with artificial sweeteners when sugar cane existed. Lucifer risked a glance at his watch while Natalie stirred her coffee, now almost the color of the light tiles of the floor with how much cream she dumped in it.

 

Meanwhile, Lucifer drank his coffee black, or at least pretended to. The four emptied packets of sugar he stashed in his pocket begged to differ, but it looked black enough when the lid was off.

 

He wasn’t exactly sure why he agreed to get breakfast with Natalie at 6:34 A-fucking-M, but there was no going back now. His hotcakes were already paid for. So he waited for her to finish making her coffee, and watched the way her eyes relaxed when she took the first sip. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and tapped his foot against the floor, knowing what a sight they must be.

 

Natalie’s hair was pulled into a messy braid, and the dirt caking her jeans had somehow migrated upwards to smear across her forehead and into her hairline. He couldn’t claim anything better, his own hair was streaked with soot, but thankfully the dark color of his shirt hid the lines of sweat around his armpits and back. He could follow his trail in the empty McDonald’s from the dirty footprints that marked his path to the counter and back to the booth he now sat in with Natalie.

 

The poor kid stuck working the morning shift had gone wide eyed when they walked in, and didn’t say a word when Lucifer swatted Natalie’s hand when she attempted to pay for her coffee and breakfast.

 

“I mean, I kinda dragged you here,” Natalie spoke through a bite of food, “You should have let me pay for you.”

 

Lucifer took a scalding sip of burnt coffee before replying, “I have a reputation to maintain. What would people say if they saw the dirt girl paying for me?”

 

A wadded up napkin hit him in the cheek as Natalie’s answer, and he smiled before chucking it back. It sailed over her shoulder and hit the floor beside her and she laughed at his piss poor aim before sinking into the booth further, holding her coffee like a precious diamond from an archeology dig.

 

They ate breakfast while Natalie talked about her newest flowering plants, describing the colors in detail until Lucifer was sure he knew as much about them as she did. They watched more people filter in and out as the morning hours crept by, bleeding into the normal working hour rush of people trying to grab their coffee before dedicating the rest of their day to work.

 

The nine o’clock hour had Lucifer pulling his phone out of his pocket to check that the time on his watch was correct, but somehow it was, and Natalie held the door for Lucifer when they walked outside. They weaved through the busying streets of New York, no one looking at each other, and Lucifer watched the loose strands of hair that escaped Natalie’s braid blow behind her in the warm breeze.

 

After they climbed the four long flights of stairs to Lucifer’s apartment, his fingers lingered on the doorknob to his floor, his brow creasing. Natalie rocked back and forth on her heels from the two refills of coffee bubbling in her veins, and watched him pull his hand away from the handle. When she looked back up at him, something was lingering in his eyes when he met her gaze.

 

“What?” Natalie asked after a beat of silence that was amplified by the emptiness of the stairwell, “Do I have dirt on my face?”

 

Her words broke the silence, and the corner of Lucifer’s mouth turned up. He didn’t look away from her when he swiped his thumb across the smear on her forehead, and Natalie could feel her face turn pink, despite not being embarrassed.

 

“Like always. I’ll see you later, kid,” Lucifer said casually, like he wasn’t just looking down at Natalie in a way that made her heart sit funny in her chest. She wasn’t ready to answer the questions she knew were reflected in her own stare, and when he turned, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

 

“Wait,” Natalie called, catching his arm in the doorway, “the spring equinox is tonight, I was gonna – do you wanna watch it with me?” Her question was almost breathless.

 

Lucifer pursed his lips for a moment, weighing her words before nodding slowly, “Text me the time.” 

 

The smile didn’t fall from her lips when Natalie climbed the steps to her room, and she carried it into her early afternoon nap that lasted too long.

* * *

 

Lucifer stood in front of the mirror, shaving the stubble off his face and running his fingers through his hair until it laid flat and out of his eyes. He heard the chime of his phone from his bedroom, and he clicked his bathroom light off on the way to grab it.

 

“7:15 okay?” The message read, the excitement in Natalie’s tone obvious from the obscene amount of emojis that followed the short statement.  

 

He sat on the corner of his bed and replied, “Should be fine. Where?”

 

“Just meet me at my apartment!”

 

He sent her an affirmation, then ducked out the door, in more of a hurry than he wanted to be in. By the time he reached the corner store, the anxiety had faded enough that he could read the labels of the wine bottles without worry as he made his careful selection.

 

Staring into the flat eyes of the Vietnamese woman, Lucifer realized that he had already seen Natalie after a few drinks, and he wasn’t so sure that he was willing to tempt the fates again. He returned the bottle to the shelves before the woman could ring him up, and returned moments later with cupcakes bearing the store’s label on the packaging. The bright yellow icing was slightly crushed against the plastic container, but they were only a couple bucks and littered with star shaped sprinkles that seemed appropriate.

 

The walk home was short, and he smoothed his collar in the reflective elevator doors on his way up to her floor. He gripped the white plastic bag in one hand, careful to keep it relatively steady, and knocked with his free hand.

 

He heard Natalie shout, “come in,” and he opened the door carefully, catching sight of Natalie exiting the bathroom, and walking towards her bedroom.

 

He stepped into her warm apartment, breathing in the fresh air filling her room from the open windows. Her curtains were waving in the warm breezes, and when Natalie finally stepped out of her bedroom, he thought he might blow away with them. He cleared his throat when he took in her floral skirt and the dirty sneakers accompanying it, and almost smiled because the contrast was so characteristically Natalie that his chest warmed.

 

Instead of walking across the room to greet him, Natalie went to the window, leaning slightly out of it to look towards the sitting sun and she gasped, “It’s almost time!”

 

When she turned back around, Lucifer’s neck matched the pink tint of the sky, and she shoved a folded blanket at him that was thrown over the couch the last time he was there. He took it without protest, and Natalie tugged at his arm, urging him to follow her into the bedroom.

 

He opened his mouth to protest, but swallowed it when she pried open the door to the fire escape, grunting at the effort it took. Lucifer didn’t have a free hand to assist her, but after another second, the heavy door swung open, creaking loudly and they stepped out onto the metal landing that groaned soundlessly with their weight. The roar of the city below was eclipsed by the breeze and Natalie’s warm fingers on the skin of his forearm.

 

When she smiled up at him, he could no longer blame the height for the way his stomach lurched, “Come on, this has roof access.”

 

The sun was slanted orange by the time the pair reached the roof, and Natalie squinted into the sunset, her smile matching the boldness of the hues before she turned back to Lucifer and took the blanket from his arms. He walked around the small section of the roof that she partitioned off with shelves and terracotta pots filled with plants and flowers that were blooming in the spring air.

 

He thumbed the leaf of a sprawling green vine, “Not enough space in your greenhouses?”

 

She fanned the blanket out, covering a small square of concrete that was shaded by a row of hanging plants, “The greenhouses are for all my research. But this little garden just...is.”

 

He switched his attention to another row of plants that smelled strongly of jasmine and Natalie trailed her fingers along the rows of ceramic pots, strolling to the edge of the building and lining her toes up to the edge of the brick. The sun streaked watercolors in the heavens, softer than the bright flowers she was growing.

 

Lucifer followed her footsteps, gently coaxing her away from the edge of the building, and back into her rooftop garden. Natalie giggled at the quiet worry that echoed through the firm press of his fingertips against the small of her back, and acquiesced with his silent request, sliding down to sit on the blanket.

 

“For fun, is it?” He asked, stooping to sit beside her, and wincing at the way the joints in his knees popped.

 

“For fun,” she agreed, falling silent.

 

After a beat too long, he reached for the grocery bag and pulled out the cupcakes. The plastic package complained loudly when he struggled to open it, but he won the war of pride, and handed Natalie the first cupcake. The icing was smashed and cracking, but Natalie smiled down at the sprinkles and stuck a finger in the icing, then stuck the same finger in her mouth.

 

When she laughed at his dumbfounded expression, her tongue was tinted yellow, and it broke the illusion, “I love the themed sprinkles, so very thoughtful of you.”

 

“I aim to please,” Lucifer quipped, biting into his own cupcake savagely. He reclined casually against a wicker shelf, mindful of the plants resting across the top of it.

 

“Hold on,” Natalie gasped, reaching for his cupcake with her free hand, “Is that a ring?” She pulled the small piece of plastic out of his icing, and stuck it in her mouth.

 

Lucifer didn’t have enough time to hide his confusion, and she pulled the ring from her lips, chasing a spot of yellow icing with her tongue. The moon shaped ring was sticky when she slid it on her finger, and it didn’t go past the second knuckle but she smiled down at it like it was a golden band.

 

“I can’t believe you brought me jewelry,” Natalie exclaimed, her voice high and sardonic as she continued to inspect the white plastic.

 

He returned to his relaxed position and slid his eyes shut, “Maybe I was saving that for someone else.”

 

Her resounding giggle had him cracking an eye to see the light expression on her face, and Natalie made a quiet noise in the back of her throat as she turned her attention towards the sky, watching the brilliant oranges slowly give way to the dark blues of the night. It didn’t seem like a war between them, more like an exchange between lovers until the moon outshined the sun, stretching languidly across the sky.

 

“The spring equinox is amazing, only one of two times a year that the day and night are equal.” Natalie said, more to herself than to Lucifer. “And now the days get longer. It’s all uphill from here,” when she spoke, her words made it seem like she was making a promise to the moon, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

 

The curve of her cheek caught the light from the apartment building next door, but the moon was reflected in her eyes, burning hot despite the coolness of the night. With the sunset came a drop in temperature, and Natalie shivered in the cold, but didn’t shrink from it.

 

“So why are we on the roof?” Lucifer finally asked, wondering exactly why his ass was on a concrete roof.

 

Natalie rolled her eyes, but her tone was teasingly serious, “It’s the equinox. I literally just explained this, dude.”

 

“Yeah, I got that part, girl. But the moon doesn’t look different than any other night.”

 

Natalie bumped his shoulder with her own, “It’s the _principle._ ”

 

He took his hand off his stomach and moved it behind Natalie to lean on, so he could shift closer to her and lower his voice, “So we’re on the roof on a Monday night…for a principle.”

 

His flat, teasing tone made Natalie laugh, and she pressed into his side and looked up at him, “Yeah, you got it.” She should have moved away, but his large frame seemed to radiate heat, and she couldn’t find it in her to pull away when the spring air was a chilly assault on her senses. And he didn’t really seem to mind, either.

 

His muscles were relaxed as Natalie leaned into him, and he caught the scent of lemons in her hair, which surprised him. He would have expected something floral. Her eyes darted between constellations, counting the ones she knew and inventing ones she didn’t and something warm ached in Lucifer’s chest, making him tap his fingers nervously against the blanket.

 

He should have been watching the sky – _the equinox_ – her whole reason for inviting him up, but instead Natalie could feel the heat of his gaze on her, making her face warm from the attention. Embarrassment finger painted her cheeks pink, and for the first time that evening, she was grateful for the cool night that wrapped around her.

 

A gentle breeze had the vines from one of her hanging plants waving in her face, and she swatted it away with a smile, smelling jasmine in the air. She looked to Lucifer to see if he found the swinging plant vines to be as amusing as she did, but the look in his eyes was stormy and intense. She found herself being swept downstream by his gaze, like he was a storm canting her sideways in its winds.

 

She couldn’t think under his stare, couldn’t even breathe. Every witty comment was sucked away from her, and it was all she could do to meet his raging brown eyes that were almost more gold in the fleeting lights of New York. He might be the most beautiful man she had ever met, hard angles and harder humor, but he was so easy to relax against that it almost scared her.

 

His eyes slid down to her lips, and she resisted the urge to chew on her bottom lip like she did when she was nervous. Every part of her body touching his felt overheated now, like he was burning her from the outside in, leaving a scorched trail from where his fingers ghosted over her bare shoulder, then crept up to gently brush her jaw.

 

She tilted her head to the side, and could smell the saccharine chocolate on his breath from the cupcakes they shared. Her lips were parted, and when he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, she gasped quietly. He was closer than she remembered, and his fingers lightly holding her face seemed like they would sear his fingerprints into her skin as a permanent reminder of this moment.

 

Her eyes fluttered shut, and the brush of his nose against her cheek had her leaning further into his touch, but the sudden chime of Lucifer’s phone made them jump apart in shock. Something dark lingered behind Lucifer’s eyes, but it was undercut by the spots of color on his cheeks, and the darkness gave way when his phone continued to buzz in his pocket.

 

On the fourth ring, he started fumbling for the device like he had forgotten how to use his hands, and when he answered the insistent call, his voice was rough, “FDNY, Squad 103, this is Lucifer.”

 

Natalie couldn’t hear what was being said over the phone to Lucifer, but she could tell it was troubling from the way his eyes went deadly serious, and his jaw set in a hard line. He dragged his free hand over his face and scratched at the stubble on his jaw, and suddenly he was responding to the person on the phone, assuring them that he would help.

 

When the phone call ended, Lucifer send a withering look Natalie’s way, suddenly looking so tired that she wanted to beg him to stay.

 

“I – shit, I have to go, Natalie,” he told her, his voice so low she almost didn’t hear him.

 

“Wait, why?” The confusion in her eyes echoed in her voice, and she grabbed a handful of his black shirt to keep him in place.

 

“It’s Ipos, my squad – shit, they need me,” and at that, he stood up, shaking sprinkles off his jeans, and hurried to the fire escape. She barely heard the promise to text her later that he shouted over his shoulder halfway down the first flight.

 

He was gone before she could even process the fact that he was leaving, and she stared at the spot on the blanket where he had been just moments before he rushed off. The roof seemed much colder without his presence, but she wasn’t upset with him. He was a firefighter, rushing off at a moment’s notice when the situation called for it was part of the job, and she couldn’t blame him.

 

It was just that the stars didn’t seem to shine as bright when she was watching them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this chapter and my other works can be found under my writing tag on tumblr!   
> http://cosmicallybrownie.tumblr.com/tagged/hot-off-the-presses


	6. Burning

Lucifer left his phone in the seat of the firetruck after debating for far too long over an inconsequential text message. He didn’t want to come off too eager, or too apologetic for practically running away from Natalie when duty – or Ipos – called. After they rounded a corner and the blazing restaurant came into view, he forgot all about the explanation and abandoned his phone in search of all the gear they would need.

When they unloaded, a frantic kitchen worker shouting in a mess of English and French told them that there were still several people inside. Lucifer nodded rapidly and relayed the information to his squad, and met up with Ipos to head in.

“First one in,” Ipos said, gripping Lucifer’s shoulder after he threw one last bag over his shoulder.

“Last one out,” Lucifer finished, slapping Ipos’ helmet before they filed into the building, sweeping for trapped civilians as they did.

In the end, they pulled nine people from the fire, but injuries were minimal at most until Lucifer took one more trip inside. The smoldering kitchen was cleared, as was the dining area, but he needed to ensure the bathroom and offices in the back were emptied and contained.

The popping sounds of the fire should have warned him, but the glass of a window shattered and the shards scraping the front of his mask were a costly distraction. A pipe running along the ceiling fell as its supports burned away, and the groan of it wasn’t enough warning for Lucifer to move.  

The heavy metal pipe struck Lucifer’s arm hard, and he could feel the sickening twist of the tendons in his shoulder as the joint popped out of place. He gasped as splintered metal raked along his side and landed solidly on his foot and ankle, knocking Lucifer to his knees.

His attempts to twist and shove the pipe off his foot were met with heavy grunts of pain and protests from his dislocated arm. He couldn’t get enough leverage to free himself, or to pop his own shoulder back into place, and the panic at being trapped welled up in him like a flood.

The fire reared up around him, its ugliness scorching the beautiful building, and he kept his breathing even with trained calmness as he evaluated the situation. His radio was pitifully out of reach, but he refused to give up, and he turned on his side to grab for it with his good arm.

The bulky gloves didn’t help him, and his fingertips were just shy of looping around the exposed wiring of the back panel. He searched around for something he could use to snag it with, but was distracted by his own name being called.

“Lucifer!” Ipos’ deep voice carried over the crackling fire, and he sat up.

“Ipos, the offices!” Lucifer called back, and he heard the fragile wood of the doorway splinter as Ipos forced his way through the mess leading back to him.

His sharp eyes met Lucifer’s and they nodded, unspoken understanding passing between them as Ipos moved the pipe off Lucifer’s foot so he could stand. Ipos grabbed Lucifer’s arm to help him, and he swore loudly when Ipos tugged on the dislocated one, but stumbled to his feet regardless.

White hot pain shot through his frame as he put his weight on his foot, and Ipos slung an arm around Lucifer’s shoulder to help him. They hobbled out of the building together, and Lucifer sat down heavily on the end of the firetruck as the rest of the unit buzzed around, assisting the civilians where they could.

It seemed like ages before it calmed down, and Ipos returned to Lucifer’s side, punching his good shoulder lightly. The men stared at each other for a minute before violent smiles crept over both of their faces and they laughed.

“You’re an idiot,” Ipos said, setting his helmet next to Lucifer’s.

“I know,” Lucifer agreed, nodding without dropping the grin on his face, “You should have left my dumb ass in there to burn.”

“But then who would I make fun of?” Ipos tossed the bag of medical supplies next to Lucifer and wiped his hands on his pants. “Now let me pop that shoulder back into place before I take you and your dumb ass to the hospital.”

Lucifer took a deep breath, steeling himself, “Do it.”

Ipos braced his hands carefully against Lucifer, his fingers flexing to make sure the grip was steady, “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

* * *

Not that Natalie had any experience judging the amount of time it took to put out a fire, but the night was getting late and she didn’t think she could sleep without knowing. She sent the first text after what she thought was a reasonable amount of time, not expecting an immediate reply.  

“Make it home safe?”

Perfect. Simple, but got her point across.

It also went unanswered for an hour, so maybe she sent another one a little too soon.

“Just wanted to check!”

When that one went unanswered, she wondered if maybe he didn’t want to talk after watching the sunset with her.

“If I offended you tonight I’m sorry…just let me know what I can do.”

She paced her apartment nervously, chewing on her bottom lip as endless scenarios played across the violent part of her imagination. Phone in hand, she made the journey down exactly 24 steps and stood in front of his door, knocking with all the force of her anxiety.

When no answer came, she sent a final text before heading back upstairs to her apartment.

“Please let me know when you make it home.”

Her pacing only increased as the night bled into tomorrow, and she couldn’t close her eyes for fear of burning dreams. She made calming chamomile tea, which went cold, and when she heated it up again she spilled it down her legs, which was not calming at all.

Natalie sat at her kitchen table, watching the clock in the corner turn over the minutes past the early morning, and her phone finally buzzed.

An out of focus picture of Lucifer’s face twisting into something like a smile lit up her screen, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming into the receiver.

“Hello?” She answered, not caring how out of breath she sounded.

“Natalie?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and when she hummed in response he continued, “My name is Ipos Kabakoff, I’m on the 103 with Lucifer –“

“Oh my god,” Natalie gasped, “Did something happen?”

“Miss, he’s fine. He had a minor injury but he’s stable and in the hospital.”

“Oh my  _god,”_ She repeated, still in shock at the news. “Is, is, is he okay? Can I come see him? Do you need me to – I don’t know, do you need me to bring anything?”

Her own words spurred her into action, and she rushed around the apartment, throwing things in a bag to take with her. She tossed in a phone charger, the rest of the supermarket cupcakes, and a shirt of his that somehow ended up with her laundry.

“No, Natalie I just wanted to let you know.” Ipos had a very gentle tilt to his voice that somehow soothed the franticness that Natalie was caught up in, “You don’t have to come by. It’s very late, you should just go to bed.”

Natalie shoved a bottle of water into the bag, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear as she grabbed her keys off of the counter, “What’s the room number?”

* * *

“Just a neighbor?” Ipos asked, hanging up the phone and walking back into the hospital room, dangling the device between his fingers. “She’s texted you like fifty times – poor girl was worried sick. She’s on her way.”

“Shut up,” Lucifer grumbled, then sat up straighter as he processed all Ipos said, “She’s  _what?”_

“In my defense, I told her she didn’t have to come.” Ipos shrugged and chucked the phone at Lucifer.

He briefly lost it in the starched white sheets of the hospital, but as he grabbed it and scrolled through the worried texts that Natalie had sent, something in his chest warmed.

A nurse came in to check his vitals, and told him the doctor would be with them shortly. It was the same thing she had been saying since they arrive two hours ago, but they still nodded politely. Ipos collapsed in the recliner in the corner, flipping through channels as Sheila slept in the window seat, her chest rising and falling evenly despite the constant blur of noises from beyond the room.

It seemed like only moments had passed before the sounds of an argument kicked up outside. Ipos and Lucifer exchanged a quiet look and Ipos got up, opening the door just in time to hear Natalie shouting in a hushed sort of way, her voice sharp with urgency.

Ipos stepped towards Natalie, smiling at the small girl who seemed almost lost in the dark hallways, and he introduced himself.

“You must be Natalie, come on, he’s right in here.” Ipos led her around the corner, and her minute burst of energy was fading, only to be replaced with anxiety at each doorway they passed.

Finally, he held one open for her, and Natalie smiled weakly at him before stepping in to look at Lucifer. He was stretched out in the hospital bed, his dirty clothes stiff with sweat and ash that would certainly stain the sheets.

“What did you…” Natalie was almost afraid to ask, and the question hung in the air as she crept forward with wide eyes, dropping her bag along the way.

He held up a hand and gestured vaguely, “I’m fine, it looks worse than it is.”

Natalie was unconvinced, and she ran her fingers up the length of his free arm, staring at the sling holding the other arm. Small cuts littered the side of his face, some of them held shut with butterfly bandages, and her hands were gentle on his face as she drank in the sight of him.

“I was so scared,” she breathed, “I didn’t – I didn’t know what to think.”

Ipos smiled over Natalie’s head at Lucifer, and he scowled, “I’m fine.”

His words were sharper than intended, and made Natalie step back, a frown tugging at her lips. The guilt that sprang up in him was immediate and choking as her eyebrows pinched together and she toyed with a bracelet on her wrist.

He grabbed her hand to pull her back towards him, “I’m sorry, I’m okay,” Lucifer’s words were soft this time, and he wished he could soothe the worry from her eyes.  

He tightened his grip on her, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand until she looked up at him. She blinked rapidly against the tears forming along her bottom lashes, and it broke his heart in the most gentle way to see them. She took a deep, stabilizing breath, and squeezed his fingers once before she let go.

“I brought you some things,” she said, her voice almost lost amongst the noisy monitors.

He plugged in his phone gratefully, happy to see his battery go up from the scary 3% it was hovering at, and Natalie sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, careful not to bump into his elevated leg.

The doctor came by eventually, bringing an x-ray and the good news that Lucifer had only broken a toe, and sprained his ankle, which was much better than any of them had been expecting. The doctor promised the swelling would decrease quickly, and prescribed a volley of pain killers to combat the soreness in his shoulder, ankle, and foot. His dignity would heal less quickly, but Lucifer was being discharged and that was enough.

Despite his protests, Lucifer was pushed out to the front of the hospital in a wheelchair that was too small for him, and Ipos helped him into the car. Ipos drove to the apartment in tired silence, speaking only once to note the sunrise pinking the clouds.

He offered to walk them up, but Lucifer declined, eager to send him and Sheila on their way, claiming they’d already done too much. Natalie carried his bag and Lucifer held his head high as they stumbled into the lobby, their neighbors no longer surprised by the odd hours they appeared to keep.

Natalie was already headed to the stairs when Lucifer’s polite cough grabbed her attention. He leaned on his single crutch to press the call button for the elevator, and Natalie reluctantly walked back over to his side.

The brass elevator doors swung open, and Natalie faltered, “What if, well couldn’t I just take the stairs and meet you there?”

Lucifer’s eyebrows pinched together in annoyance, far beyond ready to just fall into bed and sleep, “No, come on, girl.” The doors began to close, and he stuck a hand between them to keep them open.

The shadows under his eyes seemed darker under the hard fluorescent lights, and after a long breath in, Natalie nodded. When the doors slid shut, she swallowed her words and imagined the small elevator was bigger than it was, and it worked until it jolted. The slightest catch in the system had Natalie pressing into Lucifer’s side, her fingers digging into his arm as her breathing turned ragged.

“Natalie?” Lucifer asked, the drowsiness fading from his voice when he realized there was genuine fear burning in her eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re almost there.” The number three was lit up above the doors, and Natalie nodded rapidly.

The elevator came to a jerking stop on the fourth floor, and she held her breath until the doors opened. It was all she could do not to rush out, and she held the door for Lucifer to hobble through even though she was ready to tear up the stairs and lay in bed.

His key ring consisted of exactly three keys, one for his door, one for his mailbox, and one she didn’t know the use of. His apartment was cleaner than she remembered, but with no more life in it than last time. Neither of them said a word as she helped him to his bedroom, and he sat down heavily on the bed with a soft groan.

Natalie fluttered helplessly around the apartment, setting out water and his painkillers. She helped him loosen his heavy boot and remove it, and she gathered up enough blankets to prop his other foot up in the bed. He had cleaned up reasonably well at the hospital, but ash still caked his torso when he removed his shirt, mindful of his arm.

He asked for washcloths and quiet, and Natalie provided them, asking if there was anything else she could do before she left. It took Lucifer a long time to say no, and even longer to say thank you, but Natalie still smiled blindly bright in the early light of the morning before she left.

* * *

Lucifer woke in a gut wrenching amount of pain that vibrated down from his teeth to his toes and the press of it all at once almost made him nauseous. He gritted his teeth as he pulled his body upwards to sit, and reached for the painkillers Natalie had carefully set out to be in his reach. Once the medication was safely swallowed, he leaned a shoulder back against the mound of pillows and grunted.

His phone indicated it was well into the afternoon, and he thumbed through a couple messages from his squad and from Natalie while he waited for the medication to fade the pain. Eventually his muscles relaxed, and he hobbled his way to the shower, forgoing the crutch in favor of the warm water.

The water ran black around his feet, and he spent far more time than usual scrubbing the memories of the night from his skin. When he stood in front of the sink with a towel around his waist, he looked at the scratches on his face, and noted that most of them had already begun to heal. A few light bruises ringed the deeper cuts, but otherwise he looked largely like himself.

He gently pulled on the shirt that smelled like Natalie’s laundry, and set his arm reluctantly back in the sling to immobilize it. The doctor said it was likely that he could return to duty in 4-6 weeks, and he sunk into the couch pitifully, wincing slightly at the soreness in his ankle as he stretched it out.

Some action movie played out nosily on the screen, and Lucifer almost missed the tapping on his door. He swung his leg to the ground to stand with a crutch, and the throbbing in the joint matched the throbbing in his head and Lucifer sank back down, electing to invite in whoever was knocking.

Natalie swept into the apartment, her arms laden with plastic bags overflowing with supplies, and she offered Lucifer a watery smile.

“Hi,” she said, something like uncertainty dripping from the single word.

“Hi.” Lucifer echoed, waving her in and welcoming her to set her things down on his counter.

She did so gratefully – bottles of creams, ice packs, and snacks flooding out as she buzzed around the small living space.

“I didn’t know what to bring,” Natalie said, smoothing out the plastic bags before she stuck them in an empty drawer. “I figured you’d probably need something to eat, and maybe some company.”

She held up another plastic bag filled with takeout from a corner place that specialized in packaged fortune cookies, and chow mein that was so good it almost made Natalie forget about the questionable looking meat in it.

“Please, I’m starving.”

Natalie handed him a paper carton and a fork, asking after his medicine and if there was anything more she could do, and he waved her questions off and jerked his head towards the open space on the couch.

She took a seat after a hesitant moment, careful not to jar his purposefully arranged position. The Chinese food was hot in her hands, but not as hot as Lucifer’s shoulder pressed against hers as they watched some old action movie on the TV, the nameless actor running through a nondescript building in a suit.

They ate in silence punctuated with laughter as the secret agent accomplished the impossible with just his gun and a bowtie, and Natalie handed Lucifer a fortune cookie after she took their empty containers to the kitchen.

He opened the crinkling plastic and cracked the cookie open to remove the paper, and Natalie gasped, grabbed his hand to still his motions. The paper fortune was trapped between his fingers, and Natalie’s eyes were wild, even though a smile played on her lips.

“What are you doing?” She asked, scandalized for some reason Lucifer couldn’t figure out. “You have to eat the whole cookie before you can read the fortune.”

He leveled her with a gaze, lifting one eyebrow to purposefully paint exaggerated confusion on his face, “Why?”

“Everyone knows this, dude. You eat the cookie first or else the fortune will never be true.” She said it so plainly that it warranted no argument, and Lucifer popped half of the cookie in his mouth and chewed loudly.

“Tastes like all my wishes are coming true,” he said around the other piece of the cookie, and Natalie laughed.

She leaned her head back against the cushion of the couch and closed her eyes with the sound, her shoulders bobbing up and down in such a soft way that he forgot what it meant to breathe. The delicate curve of her cheek and smile was so familiar that he could see it in his dreams, and when her eyes opened back up, he held them for the longest second before unfolding the fortune in his fingers.  

“Catch on fire with enthusiasm, and people will come for miles just to see you burn.” He read, then paused a moment, grinning at Natalie’s open mouth, “I shouldn’t have eaten that damn cookie, you’ve just doomed me, Natalie.”

Her answering laugh was more air than anything, “No, no you can’t get hurt again. I need someone to talk to who doesn’t mind coffee runs and plant talk at 6 in the morning.”

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully, and said, “I’ll do my best,” before he leaned back into the couch, throwing his good arm across the back of it. The movement allowed Natalie room to lean into his chest, and the press of his torso against her shoulder was a momentary luxury.

“I’m serious now,” Natalie said, sitting up as the humor drained from her voice. “I can’t imagine my mornings without you anymore. I was scared, Lucifer.” The admission was soft, each word spoken like a prayer and Natalie laid a hand against his chest.  

He could feel his heart pick up below her fingertips, and he mumbled “’m sorry I scared you.” The apology was quiet, almost like he was embarrassed by his own words, and he pulled his arm back, trailing his fingertips along the skin of her shoulder.

She shuddered under his touch, turning and shifting closer so their legs were pressed together, sending shockwaves of warmth between them. Instead of dropping his hand, he gently dragged it further up, feeling goosebumps rise along Natalie’s neck in his wake.

Her lips parted gently when he cupped her cheek in his hand, the green of her eyes hidden under her heavy lashes as she looked up at him through lidded eyes. He could match the cant of her breathing to his own, their chests heaving in unison as neither of them seemed able to catch their breath.

Somehow they drew nearer, Natalie’s loose hair tickling Lucifer’s arm, and he was close enough to start numbering her freckles like stars. Pink spotted Lucifer’s cheeks, and she felt the thunder of his heart crescendo to a storm, pulsing beneath her fingertips as a vivid red reminder that he was alive, that he was there and solid under her touch.  

Her words practically caressed him when she spoke, and the soft plea spoken into the air seeped into his skin, “Please be careful, Lucifer.”

His thumb swept over her bottom lip, holding her face so achingly gentle that when he finally kissed her, her lips parted easily against his. Her sweetness burnt a hole through the center of his chest, consuming him    as everything bled into her. Waves of emotion swept over him, threatening to wash him out and drag him away, but Natalie stayed. She was warm underneath his fingers, her mouth pliant against his.

When they finally broke after far too many selfish seconds, the air had been stolen from Natalie’s lungs, and she gasped against Lucifer’s lips for a moment before her hand on his chest became a grip. She held on to the front of his shirt when she pressed her mouth back against his, pouring her fear and anxiety and relief into every inch of her kiss.

He stroked his thumb along her cheek, brushing the edge of her lips between kisses. He would burn alive before her, melting into the floor and as she scorched everything she touched, if only he could have her.

At some point she had risen to her knees, crawling halfway into his lap to kiss him, her hands still grasping the fabric of his shirt, more for her own sake than to keep him there. Lucifer’s tongue swept into Natalie’s mouth, and she groaned at the heat after gasping and carding her fingers through Lucifer’s hair.

Each kiss burned for more, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her tight against his chest, mindful of his arm in a sling. Natalie had a hand on his face, feeling the stubble on his jaw as she kissed him when the door swung open suddenly, startling the pair as Ipos walked in.

Natalie sprang off of the couch like Lucifer’s touched burned her, and her face challenged her hair with how red it was from the embarrassment. She floundered for words in an impossibly long moment before she practically ran from the small living room, leaving Ipos staring down at Lucifer.

Lucifer’s chest was still heaving, his hair messy in the best way as Ipos smiled down at him, nothing short of pure wickedness in his expression.

“Well,” Ipos said, his tone sardonic with a smile, “I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”

Lucifer dropped his head into his open palm, covering half of his face as he processed everything that just happened and marveled at how his whole body was still buzzing with seemingly boundless energy. He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face, misery tinged with heady longing pulsing through his veins like poison.

“What the fuck have I done?”


	7. Date Night

Lucifer sat on a torn couch in the 103 station, fiddling with a broken radio for something to do as the rest of his squad milled around him. His shoulder had healed up enough in the week that he abandoned the sling in favor of moving his arms freely again, but his foot was still held captive in a cast and propped up on the scuffed table in front of him.

Boredom had quickly chased him from his apartment and back into the station, eager to help in any way he could, short of active duty. He’d actually become rather proficient at fixing the little handheld walkies that always seemed to short out, and the more he fixed, the easier it was to forget about the messages from Natalie that he still hadn’t responded to.

A slip of the screwdriver he was holding had the radio in his hand sparking, and Lucifer dropped it in shock, cursing as it rolled out of his reach. Ipos picked it up, and handed it to Lucifer, sitting down beside him in the process.

Ipos nodded to Lucifer’s phone sitting untouched on the table, “So you haven’t texted her back then.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Fuck off,” Lucifer grumbled, leaning back in his seat with a frown tugging on his lips. Ipos made it especially difficult to ignore the guilt that welled up in him when he thought about the kindness in Natalie’s face and the probing worry that her texts were laced with.

He screwed on the back of the radio and flipped the switch to turn it on, a smile tugging on his lips when the red light lit up on the top. When Lucifer glanced back up, the chief was standing in front of him, and he snagged the radio from his hands with a smile.

“Thank you, son.” The chief said, pocketing the radio and sitting down on the wooden coffee table to make easier eye contact with Lucifer. “Now that you’ve made a menace of yourself here, trying to fix everything set in front of you, why don’t you fix what’s really bothering you.”

Lucifer groaned, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, “Not you too.” He ran his fingers through his already messy hair that really complimented the fire department issued sweatpants he wore.

When Lucifer looked back up, the chief hadn’t looked away, and the wrinkled brown skin of his face was smooth as he waited for Lucifer to say something. Ipos fell silent too, tugging at a loose threat on his worn pants pocket.

“It’s just, I don’t…” Lucifer trailed off, throwing his hands up as he scrambled for the words. “I don’t know what to say. Fuck, I think – I think I  _like_  her.”

Ipos broke the silence to laugh at that, a hand clutching his stomach as the other clapped on Lucifer’s shoulder. “ _Think?_ ” He broke into another peal of laughter, “Luce your tongue was practically down her throat the other day, you can just shut that “think” bullshit right up.”

The chief leveled Ipos with a cocked eyebrow and his laughter subsided slowly as the chief hunched forward. “I don’t let cowards into my squad. Talk to the girl, Lucifer.”

And that was all the advice the chief gave before he stood up and walked out the room, leaving Lucifer staring after him while Ipos shoved his phone at him. He took it after a long moment, and unlocked it to find Natalie’s name in his short list of contacts.

“I think I owe you an apology and an explanation. Let me take you out to dinner.”

Each second that ticked by felt like a thousand, and by the time her reply lit up the screen, he had practically gone blue in the face from holding his breath.

“Okay. Pick me up at 8.”

* * *

Of course he would notice the scuff on his leather boot right before he knocked on Natalie’s door. It was nothing the darkness of the evening wouldn’t conceal, but the fluorescent lights in the hallway made each of his flaws seem worse than it was. He shifted the supermarket flowers to the hand holding his crutch so he could knock on her door, and he almost flinched when she opened it immediately.

All of his prepared speeches died on his tongue as he took in the sight of her, the perfume she wore rolling off of her skin like incense. The loose skirt she wore skimmed her thighs, the strappy tank top slipping off her shoulder, leaving only a pink bra strap in place, and the air left his lungs in a shudder.

He took a deep breath to stabilize himself, and held the flowers out to her in a wordless gesture. Natalie took them after a long moment, her nose scrunching as she was hit with the artificial smell of the flowers, but she admired the colors all the same.

He noticed the catch in her expression and said, “I know they’re no  _Strongylodon_ macro-robots, but a guy can only do so much on short notice.” Lucifer stumbled over the name, botching the second term all together, but Natalie felt a smile creep over her lips at the earnestness in his face as he struggled to pronounce the name of the plant she had been working with for weeks.

“I love them,” she told him, stepping back into her kitchen to put the flowers into water, “They’re perfect.” They brightened up her whole kitchen, and when she stepped back out into the hallway, she took his arm.

“Oh, thank you, miss. I’ll need the help if I’m going to make it down all these stairs on a crutch.”

Natalie laughed, her wide smile easily splitting her face into glimpses of sunshine. “You should have just told me to meet you in the lobby,” she chided.

Lucifer nodded, “I didn’t think this through.”

* * *

Lucifer sat across from Natalie at the upscale restaurant downtown that neither of them would have ever been able to get into without the chief calling the owner earlier that afternoon. The hostess had looked them up and down several times before letting them in under Lucifer’s name, and on their way to their seats, they shared a wide-eyed smile when they realized they were underdressed.

Lucifer nudged a menu Natalie’s way, and she picked it up with a smile, careful not to knock over the decanter of ice water the waiter had set between them. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and Natalie read over a list of dishes and desserts that neither one of them could pronounce.

Their waiter had given Lucifer a list of wines, boasting about the finest selection in the city through his toothy French accent. He had licked his lips between every other word, and Lucifer had pinched his face in a false sincerity to push down the laughter threatening to burst forth from his lungs.

Once they were left in filtered silence punctuated with purposefully atmospheric piano music, their eyes locked across the table, and they exchanged a silent nod and stood at the same time.

They followed the streetlights to Natalie’s favorite diner a couple blocks away. A bell above the door chimed when they walked inside, and the chef stepped out of the kitchen to greet Natalie by name.

They exchanged pleasantries for a moment before Natalie nudged Lucifer over towards a corner, and slumped into a booth. The hanging light above their table was burnt out, but outside the window was a clear view down the street and Lucifer understood her choice of seating as she watched people walk by, each with their own place to go.

“During my undergrad studies, I practically lived here.” Natalie said, not turning away from the window, “I can’t tell you how many hours I sat here studying, salted caramel milkshakes getting me through the semesters.”

“And she never paid for a single one. Girl owes me like, a hundred bucks easily.” The chef stood at the table, putting down menus with a smile and Natalie finally looked away from the window to match the grin splitting his face.  

“It wasn’t for lack of offering, you oaf.” Natalie chided, tapping the table with a finger.

The man merely hummed in response, and Natalie shooed him away so they could look at the menu in peace. Lucifer unfolded the worn paper menu, crayon scribbles and tears littering the browning pages, but adding some sort of wordless charm to the whole appeal of the small diner.

Natalie reached over the wooden table to point to a dish circled in green crayon, “That’s the best, but you can’t really go wrong with anything here. It’s all pretty greasy and pretty good.”

Lucifer nodded, folding the paper back up, “Well how could I go wrong with that, since you and the green crayon agree.”

So they ordered and sat for a moment in silence that wasn’t as uncomfortable as it could have been, considering the whole reason they were out to dinner in the first place. People passing by were constantly catching Natalie’s attention, and she would make up stories about where everyone might be going.

“It’s a wonder you got any studying done here,” Lucifer quipped after Natalie decided that the young couple that just passed was definitely headed for the botanical gardens, despite the fact that it was almost nine in the evening on a Wednesday.

“I got plenty done,” Natalie said, but leaned forward to smile conspiratorially, “It’s just more fun to watch with good company.”

Lucifer could feel his heart jump at the confession wrapped up in her own sort of forgiveness, and he could have melted into the floor with it. The ice that had begun to form around his heart from fear crack a little, but he sat up straighter despite it. He owed her an explanation.

“Natalie,” Lucifer started, “I’m –“

His explanation, however, was cut off as heavy plates laden with food were sat in front of them by the colorful chef who also played host and server, it seemed. Natalie’s face was split into a smile as she bit into a French fry, and panted around the heat of it while it cooled.

They were left alone after a long minute that had Lucifer admitting that yes, the food was amazing. He swiped at the grease on his chin with a napkin and sat the sandwich he was holding on his plate so he could lean forward and grab Natalie’s attention even as she kept working on the pile of fries in front of her.

“Look,” Lucifer sighed, leaning his jaw on a fist, “Sorry I ignored you after, well, you know.” He dropped his gaze then, suddenly fascinated in the pen markings littering the table, no doubt remnants from Natalie’s studying.

When he finally pulled his gaze back up to level hers, color had risen to her face, painting her cheeks pink even in the dim light offered by the flickering streetlight outside of the window.

“I was sad, you know, for a while.” Natalie admitted, a frown pulling at the corner of her lips. “And then I was worried that I mucked everything up. You’re one of my best friends, and I just, like, you know.” She trailed off then, picking at a napkin on the table and tearing it into strips.

They sat in silence for a beat before Natalie spoke again, “I was afraid you didn’t like me and didn’t want to talk to me again after we kissed.” The confession hung heavily in the air between them before Lucifer nearly jumped across the table, grabbing her wrist in the process.

“No, no, no.” He stumbled over the words, like he would choke if he couldn’t get them out fast enough. “Of course not, of course not, Natalie. I wanted to talk to you, I just, I didn’t know what to say.”

He stroked his thumb along the inside of Natalie’s wrist, and she watched the movement carefully, the breath held still in her throat. Lucifer had yet to look away from her face, waiting for a catch of anything in her expression to relieve the tension rippling through his shoulders.

When she finally looked up at him, it was with the teasing glint in her eyes he had learned to recognize, “Well, you could have said  _something._ You left me hanging there, I don’t even know if I’m a good kisser.”

He felt a matching smile tug on his lips, and he dropped her wrist in favor of another fry, “Oh yeah, you’re good. Could use more practice though.”

“Guess you’ll have to show me then,” Natalie said, leaning back nonchalantly in the booth and it was all Lucifer could do not to choke.

* * *

 

The walk home was slow going, Natalie’s arm wrapped around Lucifer’s as she pressed closed to him under the excuse of being cold. They counted down the streetlights to the end of each corner, and Lucifer watched each one light up the halo of Natalie’s hair.

“It’s much more fun to walk you home sober.” The observation was made softly, but the implications had Natalie giggling into the open night air.

“Yeah, yeah,” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, “You’re my prince charming. Guess I never did thank you though – for getting me home safely that night, Mr. Good Time.”

“I’m just glad I answered the phone call,” Lucifer said, honesty coating the words. He thought about that often, how easy it would have been to let the phone ring or to hang up when some drunk girl was shouting in his ear, and maybe then he never would have met her.

The far off look in Natalie’s eyes as she looked down the street and back to their locked arms suggested she was thinking the same thing, and she nodded, “Me too. Can’t just meet people the normal way, can I?”

Lucifer shook his head at her, and grabbed her elbow gently to stop momentarily at a small corner park, the grounds mostly empty save for some teenagers and someone sleeping on a bench. Lucifer sunk down on another bench, leaning his crutch against the edge of it, and slinging his arm over the back so Natalie could sit next to him.

“It’s a nice night. Much better than the first night we met, and this one I’ll definitely remember.” Natalie crooned, settling in beside Lucifer, and she shuddered at the warmth of him pressed against her bare shoulders.

“Mhmm,” Lucifer agreed, tipping his head up to search the sky. Clouds were scattered low, obscuring any vision they might have had of the stars, but somehow it was one of the nicest nights he could remember.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her bright red hair spilling onto his black shirt like fresh blood. He twirled a piece between his fingers and watched the even rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in the heavy night time air, humid from the sweat of the city as it settled down into the dusk hours of the early summer.

“I missed you when you didn’t talk to me.” Natalie said, more to the night sky than to Lucifer and she could feel the heavy draw of air he drank in.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Lucifer admitted, “The boys at the station gave me hell for it.”

Natalie laughed at that, tracing patterns on the stiff fabric of Lucifer’s jeans as she did.

“You should have just visited. I’m a floor up.”

Lucifer’s chest rumbled under her, and he ran his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t know if you’d ever wanna talk to me again.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Natalie nodded pensively, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “I thought the same thing.”

Their heartbeats pounded in sync as the clouds parted overhead for just long enough to glimpse up into the boundless landscape of the sky, and the few visible stars winked down at the pair. The tumbling darkness seemed so vast and so beyond their reach that Natalie was glad for the solidity of Lucifer against her back and below her fingertips.

With her face upturned, searching for answers to unasked questions in the sky, she breathed “I’m glad you’re here.”

They sat in comfortable silence after that, the air around them buzzing with activity and the sounds of traffic associated with the nonstop life pressing forward in the city.

 

* * *

Lucifer leaned against the door to her apartment heavily as he held it open for her, and she smiled as she walked in. The sight of the flowers on the counter warmed her chest, and they added a layer of tranquility to the chaotic state her apartment was in at the moment, papers and piles of clothing everywhere they could be.

“Sorry for the mess. I’m in the final stages of my dissertation and presenting my research. I’m getting ready to graduate and then that’ll be Dr. Natalie, PhD to you.” She explained, hurrying around the room and tossing the bunched up clothing into a laundry basket in the corner.

Lucifer stood awkwardly just outside of the width of the living room, trying to avoid watching the loose skirt flare up around her thighs as she bent down and straightened back up in her haste to clean up.

Visions of her pale legs filled his mind, and his mouth went dry when he spoke, “Congratulations. I’ll let you um, get back to it, then.”

She spun towards the door where Lucifer was backpedaling, and she stepping forward to stop him, grabbing his arm. She could feel the muscles in his bicep tense with the strength there, but he stopped where he was, practically frozen where he stood.

“Thank you for tonight,” Natalie said, looking up at him, “I had a nice time.”

She opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but instead fell silent, waiting for Lucifer to say something, or anything. Instead, he replied with a several sharp nods, and brought his hand up to catch her wrist.

“Goodnight,” it was hardly more than a whisper, and Lucifer’s chest heaved with a shuddering breath before he released his grip on her and opened the door behind him.

* * *

Lucifer stared up at the ceiling, not really winning the competition he was waging against the cracks in the flat paint. He laid a hand on his bare stomach and sighed, turning over after a moment to flop on his side and reach for his phone.

He couldn’t sleep, not with sparks of her shooting across his vision every time he closed his eyes.

Eventually he sat up, abandoning the news page filled with nothing but biased articles and half-truths. His room felt hot, smothering him in a way that felt like a golden hand was wrapped around his throat and choking him, making Lucifer stumble his way to the window, throwing it open with sheer force that overcame the cracking paint the frame scraped against.

He gulped in the balmy night air, sliding out of his window onto the fire escape and taking in deep breaths until his heart rate calmed. His chest was sticky against the cool air wrapping around him, and when he leaned a hip against the metal railing, the chill of it sent a jolt though his body.

The cars below him kept up a tempo that exhausted him to watch, people pouring in and out of the hailed vehicles going places he would never know with people he would never meet. He felt so very small on that fire escape away from the world, and the scrape of an opening window from above him startled him violently out of his thoughts.

Bare feet hit the landing above him, and Lucifer forced neutrality in his voice when he called out, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Natalie let out a sharp breath out of surprise at the question, but descended the stairs a moment later to meet him, shaking her head with a wry smile.

She had exchanged her skirt and tank top for a loose white tee that hung off her shoulder, and a tiny pair of black shorts that practically disappeared under the worn shirt. Her hair was pulled up out of her face in a messy style that let several pieces fall out around her face, and Lucifer tucked one behind her ear without hesitation.

The peeks of moonlight from behind the clouds carved softness into her face, rounding out the lines of her features so she was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her eyes flickered across his bare chest, tracing the thick red lines on his arms, and over the black inked numbers of his squad. Her fingers traced the logo, and he turned slightly to expose the tattooed fire blossoming across his shoulder blades and ghosting over twin scars there that she didn’t dare ask about.

When he turned back to face her, her eyes dipped to the sweatpants slung low on his hips and bearing the fire department’s letters down the thigh. Natalie’s skin was warm when he skimmed his fingertips along her arm, and she stepped closer to him.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Lucifer said breathlessly, sliding both of his hands up her arms, her skin like silk below his touch. Goosebumps followed his trailing fingertips, and her chest brushed his when she looked up at him, green eyes filled with something hazy that was matched in Lucifer’s gaze.

Her breath hitched, “Yeah.”

The word was all Natalie managed to get out before Lucifer held her face in his hands, and leaned down to press his lips against hers. The sweetness of it stole the breath from her lungs, and she raised up on her toes to meet him, her kiss parting the cloudy skies into an eruption of constellations behind his eyes.

Lucifer leaned into Natalie, pressing her against the metal bars of the landing and warming them and her until everything burned against her skin, and his kisses turned from chaste to sparks that threatened to set her ablaze. She could have melted against him, fluid and glittering with open mouthed kisses that tasted of mint and toothpaste, and he pressed further into her, seeking warmth like he was waking from centuries of freezing.

He stole a whimper from her lips, and then broke apart from her slowly, pressing lingering kisses to her mouth.

Natalie gasped against his lips for a few minutes, catching her breath before she mumbled, “Goodnight,” into Lucifer’s skin.

Her breathless laughter carried him back inside, and floating into his dreams that tasted of Natalie. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the beginning of another multichaptered fic that I'm very excited for!
> 
> This fic and all others can be found on my tumblr account under my writing tag  
> cosmicallybrownie.tumblr.com/tagged/hot-off-the-presses


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